


Deep Brain

by steeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeb



Series: Deep Brain [1]
Category: Age of Ultron - Fandom, Hawkeye - Fandom, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Dystonia, F/M, Medical Conditions, Medical Procedures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-20
Updated: 2015-09-24
Packaged: 2018-04-16 06:23:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 37,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4614570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeb/pseuds/steeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At first it starts with a small twitch.  Something hardly noticeable that he doesn't pay attention to, until he starts missing shots.  In less than six months he can barely feed himself.</p><p>An AU (After Ultron) in which Clint acquires dystonia.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Blink and Tap

**Author's Note:**

  * For [daughterofrohan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/daughterofrohan/gifts).



3 Hours, 47 Minutes AU (After Ultron)  
\------

Clint hated oxygen masks. Absolutely hated them. They were clunky and annoying and he never knew what to do with them whenever he wanted to talk, but Nat would knock him out herself if he removed the one currently over his face. The air this high up was thin, and he was having trouble drawing a breath due to the shot on the right side of his gut so he was already lightheaded and pale. And fuck did he want to take a nap.

They were flying back from Sokovia in the Quinjet, which Tony _swore_ would be able to make it across the Atlantic without falling apart in midair. Clint could hardly give a fuck; any time he started to doze either Natasha or Steve woke him up again and he was starting to feel crankier each time they did so. He just wanted to nap, but medical wouldn't let him. Something about his O2 levels dropping too low whenever he fell asleep, so they wanted to keep him awake until they were in an actual hospital. Clint wasn't really paying attention to that part, he was more worried about the newbie stitching up his gut without also puncturing his kidney to pay attention to what the head medic was telling him. At least Natasha paid attention to these kinds of things.

She was still worried about Banner, Clint could tell even in his near-delirious state. Fussing over Clint was Nat's way of putting off thinking about Banner, and Steve fussing over him was just Steve being...Steve. They didn't have many discussions before this that didn't involve tactics or battle plans of some kind. It wasn't anything against Cap but Clint just felt _older_ than Steve for some reason, even though Steve was more than twice Clint's age. There just wasn't anything in common to talk about. Baseball, sometimes. Maybe a movie that Clint recommended to get Steve caught up on current culture. But right now Steve was asking about his family to keep him awake while Natasha changed the dressing on his hip.

"How old are they," Steve is asking. Clint's brain is not firing as quickly as he would like so he has to think a moment before answering. "Your kids."

Clint tugs at the oxygen mask while calculating the date in his head. "Coop is...he's nine, Lilah is six. And Nate is negative two weeks and counting." Natasha jabs him in his ribs at the mention of Clint's unborn baby.

"I'm still mad you made him a boy," she mumbles. Clint scrunches his face at her.

"It's not my fault!"

Instead of gently smoothing the medical tape against his skin she slaps her hand on the large gauze pad. "It's _entirely_ your fault! Sperm carries the genetic code that determines the sex of the baby. So yes, you made your Traitor Baby a boy."

Clint hisses when her hand smacks against him, trying his best not to curse so Tony doesn't but into the conversation by making fun of Cap's inability to tolerate "language." Even though that's bullshit; Cap curses about as much as Clint does, Cap is just more selective about when and where he says things. Good thing Tony is somewhere in the back of the Quinjet trying to figure out how to get his armor off. Thor is flying alongside the Quinjet as something of a look-out until they're Stateside. 

He dozes off again, or blacks out, because a moment later both Natasha and Steve are standing over him. Natasha pats his face until he is coherent enough to swat her hand away. Steve's hand is on his shoulder. "I'm good, stop it," Clint whines at her.

"We're almost there, Barton, just an hour or so. Keep telling me about your kids." Steve drops himself back in his seat but doesn't let go of Clint's shoulder.

"Hmm? Oh, right. Cooper's nine, Lilah is six. And Nate only has a few weeks to go before he gets here."

Natasha glances at Steve for a moment, her eyebrows furrowed. "You already said that, Clint." She walks over to the secured cabinets behind Steve and begins digging for a pen-light.

"I did? Okay then. Let's see...Coop wants to be an engineer or an architect when he gets older, he likes building things and drawing blueprints. Lilah wants to be an artist. I think. Last week she also said she wanted to be a kitty so who knows when she'll change her mind again." Clint smiles the same dopey grin he gets whenever he gushes about his kids until Natasha is waving the pen-light into his eyeball. "Fuck, Nat, stop." He swats at her hand again but doesn't have the energy or coordination to really fight her. She eventually pinches his ear to get him to cooperate.

Tony finally removes the last of his armor and wanders back up to the front of the Quinjet to check the timer on the autopilot. "Forty-five minutes, lady and gentlemen. Barton gonna make it or you think he'll croak before we get there?" Steve stares daggers at him even though Clint grins under the oxygen mask.

"I'm gonna live forever, Stark."

\--------------------

It's another three days before Clint is cleared to go home. SHIELD restitched the gash in his side and gives him a full exam, just like every major catastrophe he manages to survive, but when he's not being prodded at by docs he's talking to Laura or one of the kids. Cooper isn't the chattiest kid he's ever met, but when Lilah gets excited about something she will run up the minutes on Clint's phone faster than he can keep track of them. This week it's something she read in a book about horses and, even though Clint already knew what she was talking about, he let her ramble to her heart's content. 

He doesn't actually tell Laura he's on his way back, he'd rather surprise her and the kids. It's too early in the morning for the kids to be outside, and when he steps through the front door Clint can hear Laura puttering around the kitchen cleaning up after breakfast. Otherwise the house is quiet; even during the summer the TV is not allowed to be turned on before noon so the kids are stretched across the couch reading as Clint walks into the foyer and sets his gear down loud enough to grab Laura's attention.

She doesn't say anything as she nearly runs over to him, throwing her arms around him. For a few moments he simply stands there, kissing the top of her head and hugging her as best he can with her belly taking up so much space. "I feel like there's something between us," he whispers against her head, causing her to laugh and dry her tears with a tissue from her pocket. 

"Nathaniel's been waiting for you to get home, he's a patient boy," Laura says against his lips. "Even though he's kicking the crap out of my ribs."

Clint bends his knees so her belly is at his face, laying his ear against her. "That's my boy, Nate." The baby doesn't acknowledge him, most likely sleeping from being rocked as Laura walked around the kitchen. All three of the kids were most active at night when Laura was pregnant with each of them and often woke her up as they kicked and stretched in their very limited space, bored from the lack of their mother's movement. Lilah had the hiccups at least once a week the closer she neared to her due date, and Clint always got a kick out of watching Laura's belly hitch with each hiccup. He kisses the front of her belly and stands up, hugging her once again. Laura calls to the kids, who come running the moment she mentions their daddy is home.

Cooper slams into Clint's hip with Lilah stopping in front so she can hop in place, wanting to be picked up. "Sorry, kiddo," he tells her, pulling her underneath his arm with her brother. "Daddy can't lift too many things right now, I got a big ouch and Auntie Nat will beat me if I hurt it again." Lilah doesn't appear too upset about not being picked up, but she stays attached to him longer than Cooper. Coop wants to show him the bird house he pieced together with leftover wood pieces from when Clint replaced the boards on the deck, and when the little boy darts off Clint smooches the top of Lilah's head. "How's my baby girl?"

She tugs his hand over to the refrigerator to show him some of her drawings. Added to the butterfly and a few flowers is a new picture of a brown horse, one that she drew the same day she talked Clint's ear off during their phone call. He plucked the drawing from the fridge and looked it over, giving it the exaggerated praise it was due. It was only in the last year that her drawings were actually decipherable. As he looked over the picture and waited for Cooper to return, Laura turned his face toward her for a moment.

"Honey, do you have something in your eye?"

Clint squinted and scrunched his face. "No, doesn't feel like it."

"You're blinking a lot," Laura said as she pushed back a few of the bangs on his forehead.

"Oh, didn't even notice." Clint tacked the picture back to the fridge then made his way over to the coffee maker. It wasn't a fancy espresso machine like the one in the communal area of the Avengers Tower, just a simple drip machine with a carafe. "And here's my 'other' baby. Did you miss daddy? I know you have." The lukewarm coffee in the carafe would need to be reheated, but Clint didn't mind. He needed coffee that didn't taste like it was scraped from the underside of the Hellicarrier. 

They spent the rest of the morning upstairs in the master bedroom so Laura could be off her feet. Clint changed into a t-shirt and pajama pants so he could relax on the bed with Laura, Lilah curled between them so she could quietly sing to Laura's belly. As soft as she sang, most likely the baby couldn't actually hear her but whenever he randomly kicked Laura would say it was due to Lilah's singing. Cooper lay on Laura's other side with his head under her arm. She lazily stroked his hair and kissed the top of his head, remarking how grown up he was all of a sudden. He would turn 10 only a couple months after Nate's arrival, so he had a big responsibility in teaching his baby brother about the world. 

Eventually Clint falls asleep and Laura sends the kids back downstairs to read for a while. As soon as Lilah's space is vacant Laura scoots over to Clint so she can lay her back to his front, easing some of the pressure the baby is putting on her lower back. She stays awake, listening to her husband's soft snoring and feeling his breath on her neck. His arm is stretched around her belly and she entwines her fingers with his, occasionally moving her hand to where Nate is waking up and beginning to kick, whispering to herself. "Are you happy daddy's home, baby?" Nathaniel has such little room to move these days he rarely kicks anymore, but when he does Laura definitely feels it. Sometimes he kicks so hard she can see the bump in her skin from his elbow or his foot. 

After a few moments of absolute silence, with Laura listening to Clint's snores once again, she notices his index finger jumping erratically. "What is it, honey?" When he doesn't respond she turns over to face him. "Clint."

"Hmm? Mmwha-what's wrong?" He doesn't open his eyes, only readjusts himself so her belly is not directly over the wound on his right side. His finger continues to jerk as if something is biting it or he's trying to say something in Morse Code.

"You're tapping me, what did you need?"

Clint yawns and pats around the bed until he finds her hand, his eyes still closed. Once he finds it, he brings her hand to his lips and kisses her knuckles. "Not a thing, honey. Just happy to be home."


	2. Cramps and Spasms

27 Days AU  
\-------------------  
Nathaniel Pietro Barton arrived nine days after Clint is home, weighing a whopping six pounds, ten ounces. Despite Nathaniel being the smallest of their babies, Natasha still calls him fat. And like Cooper and Lilah, Clint is there to catch his youngest and hand him over to Laura. The doctor lets their older two in the room about an hour later once mother and baby are clean and warm and the entire family is home two days later.

\---

Clint looked down at the little baby burrito in his hands and grinned, stroking the baby's hair flat against his head. He just came out of a bath done in the kitchen sink, so half the blanket is soaked and Nate is obviously uncomfortable from being rudely removed from the warm water. Usually they're more prepared than this for bath time, with clothes laid out and ready to go by the time they're done but this time Clint forgot entirely. "Listen, Little Man," Clint soothed. "Mommy's upstairs right now picking out something for you to wear and getting a new diaper, and then we can go on a walk. So don't pee on me again, okay? You're as bad as your brother. Hey, hey, relax, buddy." Nate's tiny whimpers turned to shrill whines despite Clint gently bouncing and walking around the kitchen table, narrowly avoiding Cooper and Lilah storming through and out the front door. 

As the door slammed shut, Laura appeared in the doorway carrying a onesie and tiny diaper. "I bet he's getting hungry," she said, tickling Nate's chin. Doing so distracted him long enough to stop his pitiful whimpering so Laura could pluck him from Clint's hands. "Come here, pumpkin, there's my boy. Oh I know, handsome, bath time is no fun." She continued muttering as she laid him down on the kitchen table so she could dress him, limbs that he was yet to be able to control splayed out in every direction. Being only about two weeks old meant that Nathaniel's only abilities included blinking and pulling up his legs to fart, but Clint chattered away at him when he was awake as if the baby had any idea what he was talking about. Now as Laura rearranged him to nurse Clint tickled his toes, watching them spread apart then curl once again.

"I see how it is, Little Man, mommy's got lunch for you so you completely forget about me."

Laura swat at his hands, trying not to jostle the baby too much. "Stop it, you're distracting him. He has a hard enough time latching as it is without you ruining his concentration."

"Honey, today he spent thirty minutes staring at the ceiling fan. He doesn't have concentration yet." Clint stood once again and rubbed his shoulder. Since he woke up this morning his left shoulder ached and cramped, almost as if he overworked it and then slept on it wrong. Yesterday his calf muscle did something similar but he also did a lot of work that involved standing and kneeling frequently. "You know, I could use a massage," Clint said, wriggling his eyebrows. Laura only scoffed at him.

"Well, Hawkeye, you're going to have to wait. I'm a little busy at the moment."

"Fine, fine." He bent low to whisper in Nate's ear. "Those are mine as soon as your teeth come in." Laura swat at him once again, gently shoving his face backward. Instead of falling he stood once again to kiss her. "I'm going to get the stroller out of the back of the truck; is the carseat in here or the car?"

"It should still be in the hallway, unless Lilah ran off with it to play with her baby dolls again." 

He left Laura to nurse the baby in peace, snagging the carseat from the hallway closet. Outside the humidity slapped him in the face despite the setting sun, sticking to his skin like wet duct tape. Cooper and Lilah scurried around the front yard chasing each other in turn. "Delilah Barton, your shoes are on the wrong feet again." The little girl stopped, looking down at her shoes. She sat on her bottom and kicked them off, tugging them on the correct feet. As she did so Clint popped the trunk of the SUV and tugged the stroller from the back, immediately dropping it to the ground.

Clint's shoulder cramped so hard he slammed his elbow against the side of his body, his hand curling into a fist. The groan that escaped his chest was loud enough to alert Cooper who jogged over. "Dad? Are you okay?" Clint rubbed his shoulder and flexed his hands, mentally willing the pain to subside. He then bent to right the stroller, which Cooper helped him do. "Dad?"

"Yeah, buddy, I'm fine. Go see if your mom is ready to go, okay?"

He wasn't fine.

\--------

Their walk took them about a mile from the house along a back road that seldom saw any traffic but was densely covered with trees, and to their left a small creek lazily bubbled along. Due to the lack of rain the water level was extremely low, low enough that the kids could remove their socks and shoes and wade around. The water covered their ankles, which made Lilah pout that there wasn't enough water to throw sticks in and watch them float. Cooper was determined to catch a frog or a tadpole, and the shallow water would allow him to easily see the tadpoles against the rocks. He even brought a small plastic tub to bring one home, just in case.

Nate stayed in the covered stroller until they were able to park underneath a few trees. Clint spread a thick blanket on the ground and laid the baby in the center, stretching out next to him with his head in Laura's lap to watch his son take in the new sights and sounds. They would not be able to stay out too long, the mosquitos would be hellacious as soon as the sun went down, but for now they could enjoy the peaceful space. The land belonged to their nearest neighbor, but the older man hardly ventured out this far and certainly didn't mind the kids playing in the creek as long as they were supervised. 

His shoulder still ached but along the walk he stretched and massaged what he could so that by the time they stopped it was a dull throb. Laura idly ran her fingers through his hair, paying more attention to the older kids than her husband and the baby. "Cooper, don't go too far, okay?" Cooper called back some sort of affirmative but the trees muffled his response. He trudged back a few seconds later, sloshing water as he went. Lilah squealed at him and hopped away trying not to get water all over the bottom of her skirt.

"Nate, tell mommy that daddy needs some lovin', can you do that for me?" The baby's eyes tried to find the source of the sound but the rest of his body simply wasn't coordinated enough yet to look in the direction. Laura leaned forward to kiss her husband's forehead. "Thanks, bud-"

The jab from his shoulder made Clint wince and curl into his side. Now it affected not only his shoulder but the entire left half of his torso, causing him to groan and wince from the pain. Laura sat up fully and wriggled her legs from underneath his head. "What's wrong, honey, what is it?"

"Nothing, just this pain in my side. It's been bugging me all morning."

She lifted his shirt to inspect Clint's back, running her fingers over his skin. "It doesn't look like anything. Straighten out so I can get a better look."

Clint tried to unclench his side, willing his ribs to spread. Being in such an awkward position made drawing a breath somewhat difficult since his lung wasn't able to fully expand. His body wouldn't obey him, though. "I-I can't."

"You can't? Just stretch out, come on."

"I'm trying, I don't know what it is." Clint was becoming visibly frustrated at his body not cooperating.

"Okay, okay, just relax. Can you turn over at all?" He was able to shift somewhat but he only managed to restrict his chest further. Laura massaged his hip somewhat, trying to feel for any sort of knot or muscle that felt out of place. "Honey, your back is spasming." Clint tried to reach behind his back to feel what she was talking about but he began to feel light-headed. After multiple failed attempts he pushed himself from the right so he was somewhat flat on his back.

"Just...just give me a moment."

Clint closed his eyes and concentrated on taking deep breaths while Laura packed up the baby and put him back in his carseat stroller. Seeing their mom packing up, Cooper and Lilah splashed over to the bank of the creek for their socks and shoes, various rocks (and one tadpole) in safely tucked away in Cooper's plastic bucket. Lilah brought her shoes over to the blanket and sat down in Nate's vacated space. "What's wrong with daddy?"

"Nothing, baby, daddy is just getting old." Clint sat up on his elbows and waited for Cooper to trudge back over. "Help your old man up, Coop." Lilah hopped up to help pull Clint up as best she could. Clint could barely remember a time in his life when he had her energy or flexibility; maybe when he was part of the traveling circus thirty years ago, sure. But now every part of him felt old. On his feet he stretched as best he could, afraid to stretch to a point that would cause him to lock up again. Along with his back his left leg felt like it was beginning to cramp once again, almost like it did yesterday, causing every step he took to result in a limp. He wanted to go home and sit in the bath tub or lay down on their bed so Laura could massage his back, but they still had a long walk before they reached the house.

Laura wrapped her hands around Clint's arm. He could tell the gesture was to help him along without worrying the kids, and he felt somewhat embarrassed that the walk home would take twice as long. Cooper volunteered to push the stroller back although when he began to bicker with Lilah about whose turn it was to push Clint shooed them both away and awkwardly shoved the stroller along the road, his knuckles white from locked fingers that he couldn't control.


	3. Storms

63 days AU

\-------------------

Although the Avengers defeated Ultron and saved the world and definitely deserved the break, Steve was the first to call everyone back for continued training. Clint debated going at all; Cooper's birthday was approaching and Nate was reaching the eight week mark so Clint wanted to be there for the first couple smiles the baby did on purpose. Up until now the only time he grinned was while falling asleep, and recently his activity level increased with improved coordination. Reaching for things was sporadic, but now Nate could turn his head and he recognized everyone's voices. Lilah loved to sing to him, so sometimes when Clint laid the pillow across her lap she would sing and Nate tried out various squeaky sounds. Those little moments were something Clint didn't want to miss.

Natasha convinced him to go, if only to see the new training facility. She'd sent him pictures of what the building looked like and a few of the newest recruits, and Clint was surprised to see who turned up. Wanda would be there, and the last conversation Clint had with her was inside the tiny house as Ultron reigned death and destruction all over Sokovia. She most likely did not know of Nate's middle name, and it wouldn't take her long to find out. Was he supposed to ask her permission to use Pietro's name? The thought of facing her once again was making him antsy for some reason.

As they pulled into the main drag, Clint flexed and massaged his hand. Yesterday he spent much of the day with Cooper in the barn doing target practice in preparation for today, and he tightened the draw weight on his bow to 80 pounds so by the end of the day Clint's muscles were screaming at him. Coop enjoyed shooting with Clint but wasn't too serious about it; instead, he just enjoyed the time spent with his dad. His bow, although full-sized, had a very low draw weight that had not been adjusted in quite some time. Lilah was definitely Clint's little princess and found archery to only be "for boys," even though she had her own pink bow and wasn't that bad of a shot considering the little amount of time she actually did so.

Natasha parked the car and popped the trunk so they could remove their gear. "You finish the flooring on the work room yet?"

"Are you kidding? Trying to get anything done while the kids are home all day is a nightmare," Clint scoffed, dragging his bowcase from the back seat. "Last week Lilah dropped a paint bucket in the living room so we had to toss the rug, I'm still trying to get the paint out of the couch. And this week Cooper's been digging for bugs all over the yard so there's mud all over the damn house not to mention the random pot holes I keep tripping over."

"Laura's probably too busy fattening up your Traitor Baby to really use the work room anyway." Anyone who overheard the two would probably be offended at Tasha's insult but her mischievous eyes and grin gave her away. Clint made a face at her regardless.

Steve stepped out of the new facility when he saw the car pull up and waited for the two to approach before saying anything. "Barton," he said, shaking Clint's hand. This was one of the few times Clint had seen Steve dressed down, which was somewhat surprising to Clint. "Stark and Thor aren't here yet but Rhodey said Stark was on his way, so who knows when that'll be."

"What about Thor?"

"That I don't know. I'm not even sure he got the message, honestly, I would've figured him and Vision would be inseparable by now. Anyway, how about a tour?" 

The main entrance to the new training facility was sparsely decorated, designed for practicality rather than aesthetics. Cap obviously had more say in its design than the Avengers Tower, which Tony used to show off his wealth more than anything and didn't allow for much training. Socialization, yes, and science related things but Clint was hardly more than a glorified grunt and didn't know much related to science. But there was plenty of alcohol, and Clint didn't keep anything harder than beer at home with the kids around. That was a relief.

From the entrance, a staircase lead to living quarters to the right as well as a few offices and communal areas. Much of the actual training rooms and gym were situated to the left, and further back were a number of storage lockers for extraneous or specialized equipment that were used sporadically. New agents milled about, some running drills around the perimeter of the building, but the newest Avengers were somewhere out of sight. After checking a few empty offices, they found three of the new Avengers in the communal kitchen clearly in a heated discussion. Clint only recognized two of them.

"Okay, just close your eyes. Or cameras. Or whatever the hell those things are," Sam is saying to Vision. The third man, who is new to Clint, stirs something in a bowl and lifts the spoon to Vision's mouth. "Open your mouth. Okay, close." Vision bites whatever is on the spoon and opens his eyes, the muscles in his mouth not twitching or showing any indication that he's chewing whatever it is the new man fed him. "So what do you taste?"

Whether or not the swallowing reflex Vision does is actually necessary or is merely for the humans' benefit, Vision processes the food and lists the ingredients. "The substance contains beef, tomatoes, green chilis, green bell pepper, salt, and onion. The combination suggests it is chili."

"No, man, what do you _taste_?"

The question appears to stump Vision. "Sand?" Both Sam and the new man laugh, and Vision's face appears to relax somewhat at their laughter. "I apologize, I do not have much experience with taste to compare. I can analyze the content of food but I am still learning how to describe sensations."

It is then that Sam notices Steve, Tasha, and Clint standing in the doorway. "Hey, Widow's back! And she brought her boyfriend."

"Oh please," Natasha says, checking Clint's shoulder. "This guy is way too old for me."

"Thanks, Nat, that's so kind of you." Clint turns to the new guy before anyone can say anything. "Clint Barton. Hawkeye."

"Scott Lang. Ant-Man." 

Clint raises his eyebrow at the name. "I thought _my_ name was ridiculous."

Scott shrugs his shoulders and turns back around to fixing chili. "Yeah, well, all the good names are taken."

The group continued chatting and catching up. Eventually Clint learns that Scott has a daughter, which prompts Natasha to steal Clint's phone from his back pocket and open up the photo album before Clint can even protest. He steals the phone back but continues flipping through the pictures until he finds one with all three kids. Steve saw a picture of Nathaniel a few hours after his birth but had not seen any recent photos. Clint's favorite is one of Nate's first grins that he did while asleep on Laura's chest from only a week ago. Another photo shows Coop and Lilah holding their hands out in front of them, blackened with grease from helping Clint change the brake pads on the SUV. Lilah was so proud of her missing tooth that day. Suddenly he missed being at home with his kids.

They chattered on for quite a while, eventually migrating to sitting around a table until another figure walked into the kitchen. Immediately Vision stood, and Clint noticed something unusual about the android: he was flustered. Clint could recognize it in the way his eyes slackened and Vision did not seem to know what to do with his jaw, whether he wanted to say anything or not. Clint turned to look at the source of Vision's predicament and also stood when he saw Wanda in the doorway. Immediately he went for a hug.

"Hey, you," he whispered against her ear. Clint knew that Wanda was here and that she was slowly becoming more sociable as time went on but Tasha had given him few updates. After a confused moment, she wrapped her arms around Clint's shoulders to return the hug. "How you doing, kid?"

Her eyes were sad but equally defiant, determined not to let her grief show on her face. "I am well," she says, flatly. Clint could tell she was still mourning her brother. "How are you?"

Clint dropped his hands and put them in his pocket. "I'm doing alright, still kicking, I guess." After a moment he felt something in the front of his head, almost like a spiderweb extending from his forehead to the very base of his skull. Wanda was improving in her ability to read people, but she was yet to learn how to scan someone without them feeling the sensation. Her face betrays her somewhat, and for a moment Clint can feel her hit a...snag somewhere in his head. Wanda does not inform him, however.

Moments pass in awkward silence, Vision still standing and looking like a large teenager (if the Vision could blush, Nat figures he would be doing so), until Steve claps his hands. "Well, I guess Stark will show up whenever he feels like it. Should we hit the gym?"

\-------------

Half an hour later, with everyone suited up in their training gear, Steve is throwing his shield against projectiles that Wanda is flinging at everyone. No one was particularly moving quickly; instead they were mostly seeing how everyone else responded to things so they could better strategize against enemies that actually would want to kill them. Right now they were working with what amounted to Nerf balls. Natasha is on the ground firing Widow's Bites while Sam and Vision are swooping in and out of the rafters batting the projectiles back down, almost as if they were playing a strange tennis match.

Clint perched himself in a little alcove built into the wall (which Scott dubbed his "Nest" as if that was a new joke) and fired arrows with blunted soft tips at what he could. The cramp in his hand grew worse the more he fired and his shots slowed considerably until he had to fight his fingers to uncurl them. Eventually he stopped firing altogether and put his bow down. Something in his head felt wrong, like the world was tilting, so he sat with his back against the wall of his alcove and waited for whatever was happening to pass.

The more frustrated he became with his hand, the harder his muscles contracted until his hand began curling in on itself. He didn't notice that his feet were also curling until his boot painfully cut into his ankle. All of his muscles felt like they were winding up and trying to crush his bones until they let go without warning, causing his limbs to jerk sporadically. His balance was thrown off and as soon as he fell over his torso cramped in the same way it did by the creek at home. Clint didn't know what was happening; his limbs continuously contracted and jerked without his control. Occasionally his chest spasmed and he made a slight hiccup sound but he was not able to call out to anyone loud enough for someone to hear him.

He was still conscious throughout everything, and he could see when the projectiles dropped to the floor and everyone quit moving. Steve called for him to report but the only sound he could make was his head bouncing against the floor of his alcove. Ten seconds later Natasha runs up the steps leading to the walkway high above the training gym's floor. Falcon and Vision's heads appear in Clint's periphery although his facial muscles are twitching and he doesn't stay focused on them for long. "Uh, Cap, you might want to get up here," Sam calls back down to the floor.

"Clint!" Natasha runs to him as soon as she sees his body jerking and spasming on the floor, holding his head in her lap so it no longer slams downward. He will most likely have a knot on the side of his head tomorrow. "Clint, can you hear me? Clint?"

He groans in response, trying to fight for control over his vocal chords. "What--help me," is the most Clint can choke out. His body is spasming in an almost rhythmic fashion now, and the more Clint fights (and loses) for control the more frustrated he becomes. Cap appears in his line of sight moments later while Sam, Vision, and Wanda stay a few feet back to give them ample space.

"It looks like he's having a seizure," Natasha says quickly, unbuttoning the clasp near Clint's throat and tugging the zipper of his vest down somewhat. Steve kneels in front of Clint and puts a large hand on his shoulder to help steady him.

"Do we need to put something in his mouth? So he doesn't swallow his tongue?"

Natasha shakes her head. "No, but contact medical. We just have to wait until it's over." She adjusts herself so she can look into his eyes and scrunches her eyebrows. "Clint?" He groans again to acknowledge her and looks in her direction as best he can. "Wait, Cap, he's not unconscious." 

"Is something controlling him? I don't understand." Steve, who is usually very calm under pressure, is unsure what to do other than to look to Nat for more information. Instead, Vision comes closer to the trio.

"Captain, most seizures that look similar to this behavior render the victim unconscious," Vision says in his smooth accent. If Vision is concerned or nervous or any emotion other than curious, no one else could tell. "Agent Romanov is correct, this is not a seizure. Would you like me to do an internal scan of Agent Barton for toxins of any kind?" Cap looks to Natasha again for confirmation, then nods. By now the spasms are occurring slower and appear less violent but Clint is also too tired to fight his muscles and gives up trying to control himself. Vision's scan takes about thirty seconds. "I do not detect any sign of toxic substances in Agent Barton's system."

Clint groans once again to work up the energy to reach for Nat's hand. For some reason he thinks that holding her hand will help him relax, if only he can get his fingers to uncurl. "Nat," he croaks after some effort. He's able to work his arm upward and toward her shoulder where she takes the hint and holds on to his hand with her own. As the jerks slow, Natasha works his hand open and massages his palm.

Ten minutes after the group converged on him, Clint finally stops spasming. He's exhausted, shaking, and doesn't want to look at his teammates from embarrassment but is grateful when Scott appears with members of the medical crew in tow. There are too many people in a confined space so Steve, Sam, Wanda, and Scott head back down the steps to the main floor of the gym. Vision offers to lower Clint to the stretcher on the ground floor rather than risk an incident on the staircase, and Clint is too exhausted to protest. Being lifted in the air makes his stomach turn and when Vision sets him on the stretcher Clint closes his eyes to keep the room from spinning. Natasha appears once again and takes his hand. "I'm going to call Laura."

"Don't," Clint whines. "Don't worry her."

"Well _I'm_ worried so I'm going to call her." Medics begin walking the stretcher out of the training gym headed for the med unit, the gaggle of Avengers trailing behind like lost ducks.

Clint falls asleep on the way.


	4. Meds

64 days AU  
\-------------------

The first medication the doctor gave Clint was clonazepam which caused him to sleep for roughly 14 hours. Because of this, Clint was unaware of Tony or Thor's arrival until the following day. "I swear, Barton, you're in here more often than I'm in my lab," Tony said while perusing one of Clint's medical files. The file itself wasn't the thickest; the bulk of Clint's medical info was packed away in his own drawer in the Avengers Tower. "You had another one of your little episodes while you were asleep, ya know. I saw the footage of the first one."

Clint sat up and pulled the bedside table closer so he could pick at the food a nurse brought for breakfast. He was starving but the cold eggs on the plate looked like something one of the kids sneezed up the last time they had the flu. "I'm sorry I wasn't awake for it." Tony grinned at him and clasped the file shut once again, tucking it back in the holder at the foot of the bed. "Where is everyone?"

"Widow's busy kicking everyone's ass up and down the training room, I'll let them know you're awake. Are you going to rattle off the bed while I'm gone?" Tony folded his arms and leaned back against a cabinet, ever worried about looking cool and competent in the face of awkwardness. Clint liked Tony, even though sometimes he wanted to strangle the man in his sleep. They were both sarcastic and offensive but hardly gave a shit if it made people laugh, and Clint appreciated that type of humor. Well, he enjoyed watching Cap's reaction to it at times. 

"I'll try to stay put," Clint answered, trying to will his foot to stop rocking back and forth. The medication made Clint feel slow and listless, as if his foot simply did not have the energy to really spasm. He wanted to stand up and move around but at the same time wanted to continue sleeping until net week. Based on what his foot was doing Clint was unsure he would be able to actually stand upright, at any rate. Maybe the next dose of the clonazepam would be less potent so he could stand up and get his blood flowing. Clint wanted to go back to the training gym or the firing range, not be stuck in the little square med unit all day. Sometimes at the farm they had lazy days where little was accomplished in terms of projects but they enjoyed sitting in a rocking chair on the porch or playing card games at the table. At least that was doing _something_. He was never able to sit still for too long, a product of a traveling circus and nomadic lifestyle.

Natasha knocked five minutes later wiping sweat from her face and neck. She was worried but, as both of them did whenever one was downed for whatever reason, kept a bemused grin splashed across her face. In their partnership they'd stitched each other up more times than either could remember and sat in bedside vigil even more frequently. Clint was there when the Winter Soldier shot straight through Natasha's gut, and she was there for nearly every stabbing Clint endured. They joked and nagged each other constantly whenever they were hospitalized, and in the rare occasions that both were downed at the same time they made treating them absolutely insufferable for the nurses.

"I called Laura," Natasha said as she poured herself some water from the pitcher on Clint's table. "She wanted you to call her as soon as you were awake. Also Cooper wanted you to know that Kermit is getting too big for the little fish bowl and requests a larger tank." Clint smiled at the thought of Coop staring at Kermit at the kitchen table, waiting for the frog to hop or do something entertaining. It wasn't a large frog, even though when Cooper caught him at the creek on their walk about six weeks ago it was a large tadpole compared to the others. A fish bowl was the only thing Clint could find in the barn that was suitable and not a flower vase. As soon as he went home again he would have to take the kids into town and see if the pet store had something bigger. So long as Cooper stopped chasing his sister with the frog around the house. "Tony is bringing in a neurologist."

Clint nodded, even though every part of his being screamed that he didn't want to deal with a neurologist. It wouldn't be the first time one poked around at his brain but the process never became easier and he hated being stuffed into an MRI machine or the eight thousand wires of an EEG machine attached to his head. He would cooperate but bitch and complain the entire time, that much was certain. "I'm sure whatever it is-"

He stopped mid sentence when Wanda appeared in the doorway, trying to take up as little space as possible. Something that Clint liked about Wanda was the way her hair always cascaded over her shoulders, similar to the way Laura's did when it was not tied up in some way. "I am sorry, I do not mean to interrupt," she mumbled. "I wanted to see how you feel." Wanda spoke English very well, though at times she missed a word or two. It reminded Clint of when he first met Natasha; initially Nat had trouble with irregular verbs or mispronounced the inflection of others. Now Nat's accent was practically nonexistent unless she spoke Russian for an extended period of time.

Both Clint and Natasha waved her in. "Nothing to be sorry about, pull up a chair," Clint replied. "I wanted to talk to you about something, anyway." Wanda hesitated just a moment before inching into the room and dropping herself in the visitor's chair. "Nat, do you have my phone? I want to show Wanda something." She poked around a cabinet for a moment for the personal items nurses removed from his clothing the previous day. At least they left him in his boxers.

She tossed the phone onto the bed and Clint fumbled with it, trying his hardest to make his shaking hand punch in the right passcode to his lock screen. He knew his passcode and could tap it into his phone with his eyes closed but his hand would not stop shaking long enough for him to type the four digits in. If anyone just met him they'd assume Clint had some type of cerebral palsy. "I can't..."

Natasha stepped in and tugged the phone from his hand. "Here, I'll do it. And I'm taking the passcode off."

"How do you even know my passcode?"

She looked up from the phone and raised her eyebrow at Clint. "Seriously? Okay, what did you want to show her?"

"Nate. He should be the first or second picture." Natasha turned the phone back around to confirm that she opened the right photo. "Yeah, that's it. Wanda, that is my youngest." 

Wanda reached for the phone and sat once again, smiling at the photo of Nate. Clint remembered taking the picture; the baby was _so close_ to smiling but as soon as Clint opened his phone his facial expression changed. The picture still looked cute, all gums and big blue eyes. Sometimes at the right angle Nate's blond hair showed but not so much in this particular picture. "He is beautiful baby, you should be very proud of him. What is his name again?"

"Nathaniel. We named him after Natasha."

Natasha rolled her eyes at him. "You were _going_ to name your Traitor Baby after me, but you had to go and make him a boy." Wanda could sense the jest in her voice without needing to mentally scan anyone, causing her to grin at the pair. Her grin faltered, however, when she felt Clint work up the energy to speak again.

"His full name is Nathaniel Pietro. After your brother." Wanda's face blanched as her eyes snapped back to Clint's twitching form. "Without your brother, my children wouldn't have a father and my wife would be alone. I'll forever be indebted to your brother, and to you. I know without Pietro you probably feel like you don't have a family anymore but you're always welcome at my home, whenever you'd like. There's plenty of space, and my daughter would love having another girl in the house." 

The tear that escaped Wanda's eye rolled slowly down the side of her nose until she wiped it away. "I miss him."

"I know you do, kid, it's okay to miss people you love." Clint took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He dreaded telling her about the baby's name but now that it was over he felt much better about doing so. Wanda was difficult to read, however. Clint couldn't tell if she was upset or angry or grateful or wanted to punch him in the face. If she did, he wouldn't blame her. Because of Clint she lost the only other person in the world she had. It was something Clint could not forgive himself for. After a quiet moment, Wanda wiped the last of her tears away and smiled forlornly at the photo once again.

"Can I see them? Your family."

"Sure, just scroll through the photos. If it looks out of focus or something my daughter probably took it, she likes to run off with my phone and fill it up with random pictures."

They looked through the photo album for another half hour, laughing at Clint's stories connected to the ones that he took or the little videos taken from Lilah's point of view. Cooper took a number photos of Kermit so he could document the frog's progression from tadpole to hopping amphibian, hopefully to use the images as part of a science project in the near future. Nat commented on a few photos that she appeared in but was content to just listen to Clint's stories. In the middle of scrolling through the photos, Wanda's head popped up.

"There is something wrong, I can feel it in your head." Immediately Natasha stood and took the phone away, tucking it back in the cabinet before she forgot. Clint, who was yet to stop his limbs from spasming, leaned back against the bed. "Yesterday I felt it, in the kitchen, but I did not say something. When I read you, there is...грешка. Something not right. Maybe you should lay down?" Clint nodded and worked on lowering the bed from so he could lay horizontally. It was a stop and go process; as soon as he managed to grasp the button that raised and lowered the mechanical bed his hand jerked away again. "I should have told you yesterday, that is my fault."

Clint shook his head and scoffed at her. "Enough of that. These...whatever they are, they're going to happen regardless." He felt the familiar contraction beginning in his fingers, similar to yesterday's. At least he was in a relatively comfortable location and not the floor for this to happen. A nurse came in and helped him lower the bed fully, followed by Vision. "Your girlfriend said I'm getting the shakes again, Vision."

The android stopped mid-stride and looked to Wanda for help. Social situations were another thing Vision was learning, and some days he was better at understanding sarcasm than others but he was not sure if Clint was serious or not. "Ms. Maximoff and I are not currently engaged in a romantic relationship."

"Current-" Clint was cut off by the muscles in his neck contracting so that his head turned at an awkward angle, putting pressure on his vocal chords. He was still breathing, but every breath he took was strangled and wheezy and he tried to force his neck to straighten before he blacked out but his body was simply not listening. Seeing the panic in his eyes Natasha helped the nurse situate a few pillows under his head to relieve the pressure and held his hand once again, straightening out his fingers that were stretched at strange angles. His other hand did the exact opposite and his fingers curled into his palm so hard he could feel the nails digging into his skin. Like yesterday his feet curled inward but luckily he was not wearing any shoes to cut into his ankles again.

Because of the medication still running in his system, this episode only lasted a few minutes but left Clint feeling weak and jittery. Natasha continued to hold his hand until his fingers somewhat relaxed and he was able to straighten his neck once again. The head doctor finally arrived as Clint's muscles relaxed and he rolled over to stretch out his back. 

"Agent Barton, how do you feel?" The doctor, Moore, shined a pen light in Clint's eyes and checked over his vitals. Usually Clint put up a fuss at doctors and nurses examining him but now he did not have the energy to complain. "Still with me?"

Clint nodded. "Yeah," he croaked. "What's wrong with me, doc?" His voice was barely above a whisper.

"I have a few ideas. I need to do an MRI as soon as possible but you would have to be evacuated to the nearest hospital to do so, I don't have the equipment here." Moore moved toward the end of the bed and massaged the calf muscle in one of Clint's legs. "Does anyone in your family have a neurological disorder that would affect movement? Parkinson's Disease, perhaps?"

Clint shook his head. "Honestly, doc, I don't remember my family so I can't tell ya."

Moore nodded and continued examining Clint's muscles. "Hmm, that's alright. I'll need to have your medical records sent from the other base-"

"I can acquire them," Vision interjected, effectively silencing the doctor. "I can also conduct the MRI scan, if Agent Barton permits. Once completed I can download the results to your computer for your review." The doctor looked to Vision, his mouth agape. "An optic scan can be done although if Agent Barton allows me to touch his head in some capacity I can complete the scan much quicker."

Clint wanted to make some type of quip at the idea of Vision touching him, but he only nodded and closed his eyes. An ache was forming behind his eyeballs that he wanted to stave off if possible and the lights overhead were not helping. Natasha pat his shoulder once, informing him that she would be outside in the hallway with Wanda if they were needed. The doctor scribbled some notes on Clint's chart at the foot on the bed then asked the nurse to bring the second dose of clonazepam. "You will most likely fall asleep again, Agent Barton, but you do not have to be awake for an MRI," Doctor Moore informed him. "Just relax and we'll get you all taken care of."

He swallowed the pill and followed it by chugging an entire glass of water. Clint's mouth felt extremely dry and the cup of water was a welcome oasis before he lay down once again. The medicine would take a little while to work through his system but with the pillows stuffed around his back he felt fairly comfortable. Once situated Vision stood next to the bed and laid his large purple hand on Clint's forehead, the smooth skin of his palm gradually warming. Occasionally Clint could feel a pulse through Vision's hand that grew stronger and became rhythmic, which quickly lulled Clint to sleep.

\----

Six hours later Clint woke again feeling rested albeit hungry. If his math was correct he had not eaten in nearly 24 hours, not since the car ride from the airport to the training facility, and his stomach did not appreciate being neglected for so long. The tremors in his hands were mild compared to this morning and Clint was grateful for the reprieve, however long it lasted. 

He slapped the button to alert the nurse that he was awake. Clint felt like he could get up and walk, he needed to use the bathroom anyway, but he did not want to bring the wrath of Natasha if he got out of bed and managed to fall on his face. The nurse appeared only a few moments later as he sat up and threw his legs over the side of the bed. "Need to hit the can," he grunted, trying out some weight on his feet. He held onto the bed and stood with the nurse at his side, allowing the blood to circulate in his legs for a few seconds. It felt good to be upright again and not lying on his back. Too much sitting around drove him crazy if he was not on a mission and holding a sniper position of some kind. Being so inert was torturous.

Clint shuffled towards the bathroom slowly on weak legs and stiff knees. His gait was alright, he certainly did not feel too off-balance but the muscles in his legs were not awake yet and having the nurse walk with him was reassuring. Maybe with some physical activity all this shaking business would clear up. Yeah, he just needed to get back to the gym and get his heart rate up. Lift some weights. Shoot his bow again. Something to get him out of the damn room, for God's sakes.

Doctor Moore returned to the room while Clint was using the bathroom, and Natasha followed with lukewarm meatloaf that smelled fantastic to Clint and his empty stomach. Usually cafeteria food tasted terrible but right now Clint would gladly eat whatever she put in front of him without complaint. The doctor had him sit on the bed once again although he could leave his feet dangling over the side. In the doctor's hands was a thick packet of films similar to those of an x-ray machine; hopefully they contained some useful information.

"How do you feel, Agent Barton?"

Clint nodded as he began cutting into his meatloaf. "Better, doc, a lot better than this morning. I think that medicine you gave me really helps, I seem to be less jittery now."

"Good, I'm glad to see some improvement," Doctor Moore responded. "Agent Barton, I've been reviewing the results of the Vision's scans for quite some time. There are no signs of tumors or masses anywhere in your brain, which was my initial concern due to the sudden onset of your symptoms."

"So what's wrong with me, doc?"

Doctor Moore flipped through the images until he found one marked earlier. "Well, the scan revealed some lesions in the basal ganglia, as you can see on this image." Arrows pointed to two specific light gray spots in the middle of Clint's brain, one on each side. "The basal ganglia helps the rest of your brain coordinate movement, and these lesions are affecting that coordination. A number of diseases involve this area of your brain, which is why I asked about Parkinson's Disease earlier this morning. However, your movements are too rhythmic to be Parkinson's. Huntington's Disease was also another possibility, but you would have already seen symptoms long before now."

Natasha leaned into his shoulder. "He's calling you old."

"Yeah, well, my son already calls me old thanks to you," Clint fired back. "So what is it? What's going on upstairs?"

Doctor Moore crossed his leg over the other and folded his hands over his knee. "Agent Barton, I'm afraid you have a disorder called _dystonia._ As you're probably aware, this disorder contracts the muscles and causes the unusual postures and tremors in your limbs. Often it is genetic but may not show symptoms until some form of brain damage occurs whether through trauma or medication, or even a lack of oxygen. What you've been having, these 'episodes' of intense spasms, is called a _dystonic storm_." Clint set his fork down on the plate and listened to himself breathe for a moment. Natasha spoke for him.

"Can you treat it?" She sounded so small in Clint's ear.

"We can continue working with medications, and you seem to respond to the clonazepam so we can try that out for a few weeks and see what happens. There are a few different medications that are available."

Mentally Clint was in another dimension entirely. His own thoughts stuttered and he could not form a coherent sentence in his head. "Is it...will it get better? I can still shoot, right?"

"Unfortunately," the doctor began slowly. "Unfortunately, Agent Barton, you will most likely not obtain the same level of accuracy as beforehand. If you're able to shoot at all."


	5. Drop

108 days AU  
\-------------------

Clint woke to the sound and feel of Laura shuffling around the bed, hushing the baby in her lap and adjusting her shirt so he could nurse. Of the three kids, Nate was probably the most vocal eater and usually grunted and chirped throughout each feeding until he fell back asleep. "Oh, piglet, I know you're hungry," she cooed at him, stifling his whines. The baby was up to four hours between feeds (during the day, he was now sleeping through the night) but as he grew and gained weight he also ate more at one time. Clint was absolutely amazed that his wife's body was able to keep up with the demand of feeding an infant while running a household. He occasionally helped bottle feed the baby but at the rate that Clint's arms spasmed he had trouble keeping the bottle still, causing both of them enormous frustration. It was easier for all involved if Laura continued to feed him.

Ever since the diagnosis, the spasms and jerks steadily became more pronounced to the point that Clint was constantly moving in some capacity. He could still walk, thankfully, at least when he wasn't having a "storm" and his legs were not locked up. His hands and arms, however, were always in motion. Physical therapy improved some of his gross motor movement, but fine motor movement in his hands was rapidly disappearing.

Telling Laura the diagnosis broke his heart, only because hers was destroyed. She knew how important it was for Clint to be able to use his bow, to feel _useful_ , and now that he could no longer shoot she mourned for him. Cooper cried. Lilah did not understand what was happening to her daddy and Clint was unsure how to explain it so that she could comprehend what was wrong. For the first week Clint was home she often yelled at him to sit still while she sat in his lap or told him to stop wiggling at the dinner table because Clint was making a bit of a mess. 

Clint sat up to kiss his wife and stretch, petting the top of Nate's head. "Morning, baby," he said against her lips. The tremors were muted in the morning since he was not fully awake and for the past month Clint tried to squeeze as much fine motor movement in before getting up and starting the day. He had more control over himself before his brain was awake enough to fuck him over. 

Laura pulled his face back to kiss him once again before Clint sat back, running her hand through his hair. The movement distracted the baby and he unlatched himself to smile at Clint. His tiny feet kicked with excitement and he cooed, his fists reaching for Clint's face. At four months old, Nate could reach and grasp for things he wanted although most of what he grabbed ended up with slobber marks after he stuck the object in his mouth. Lilah thought it was funny to wiggle a doll in front of his face to watch Nate mouth at it and try to chew. "Here, you want to go to daddy so mommy can get dressed?" She laid the baby in the middle of the bed so Clint could stretch out around him.

"Hey, bud, how's my boy?" Nate looked at Clint and babbled, his feet and arms bouncing around in excitement. Clint leaned into the baby's belly and pretended to gnaw on him, growling and shaking his head back and forth. The baby's squeal echoed in their room, his little fists tugged at Clint's hair and his belly hitched from laughing so hard. Clint would die for this little boy, for any of his children, without a second thought and sometimes he couldn't believe he made a life here. After his own life was so dysfunctional and terrible, the fact that his own children were so normal absolutely astounded him. Cooper was as wiggly as Nate as a baby, whereas Lilah preferred to be cuddled above anything else. They had regular interests; dolls and bugs, Legos and princesses, picking flowers and horses and butterflies. None of his children would have to worry about the next time they could eat, where they were going to sleep that night, if their father would come home drunk or sober every night. "Okay, Nate, let go of daddy's hair, buddy. Let go. Wait until Auntie Nat gets here, then you can pull on her hair."

At that Laura poked her head out of the bathroom door, tugging a shirt over her head. "Speaking of which, we need to get everything set up downstairs. Everybody is coming at noon and I still need to make Coop's cake. Do you know what time Natasha's coming?"

Clint had to wrack his brain for a moment. "Around 10:30 or so, knowing her probably sooner than that. Lilah made me call her twice yesterday to make sure." From the bathroom Laura laughed. For Lilah, Auntie Nat might as well have hung the moon. "Hey, buddy, you wanna try out the jumper today? Do ya?" Nate was strong enough on his belly that he could hold his head up now (until he fell asleep on the play mat, at least) and yesterday Cooper helped pick out a jumper saucer at the store. Since there was such a gap between babies most of the toys and little activity centers Laura and Clint collected between Cooper and Lilah were all given away or sold at yard sales so they had to buy everything once again. The jumper they bought yesterday was probably a little big but Clint figured if he stuffed a blanket around Nate's waist he would be a little more secure. The saucer itself didn't move but the springy seat could spin so the baby could play with different objects built into the plastic and bounce safely. The first time they tried Lilah in one they had to put phone books under her feet to reach.

Fully dressed, Laura came out of the bathroom carrying Clint's medication and a glass of water. "Here," she said, stuffing the pills into his palm. "You want a straw?" Clint nodded and worked on bringing his fist to his mouth. The gross motor movements he could do reasonably well, but even with his palm at his mouth he had to concentrate for his hand to let go. Even if he managed to do so, there was always the possibility that his shoulder jerked at the right moment and he dropped it again. With the pill swallowed he held the cup against the bed to stabilize it and downed the water as fast as the straw would allow him. At first he could drink without making too much of a mess but as the days went on, and more and more shirts were soaked, Laura ordered a set of cups from a medical supply catalog with lids that he could drink with different sized straws. Drinking coffee through a straw felt strange at first but after six weeks Clint was adapting. Begrudgingly. Now if only he could find utensils that he could use without making a mess.

With the baby comfortably in the middle of the bed, Clint sat up to pull on a shirt. Laura boxed most of his button-down shirts and tossed them into the storage shed, keeping only a few for special occasions that he needed to dress up for. Polos were alright but for the most part Clint stuck to regular t-shirts. Laura tossed him a pair of jeans which he could pull on but couldn't get the button together. "Uh, baby, would you mind..." She stood in front of him and worked the button together, leaning forward to kiss him. "You know, there are other things you can do down there, we got the time." Clint wiggled his eyebrows as best he could in the most suggestive way he was able to muster.

Laura laughed against his lips. "You're funny, Mr. Barton. And no, we don't have the time. I still have to make breakfast and get the kids in the bath, make Cooper's cake, get everything for the party set up, a whole list of stuff to do." She pulled his hips against hers and wrapped her arms around his neck, running her fingers through the short hairs on the back of his head.

"I'd only need like two minutes, maybe three," Clint whined. Laura threw her head back and laughed, letting go so she could pack up the baby and head downstairs.

"Just two minutes, huh? Well, save it for tonight and we can go for more than just two minutes. Come on, help me get the kids up." 

He didn't have to do anything more than knock on each kid's bedroom door and tell them to get dressed for breakfast. Lilah was already up and playing with her dollhouse, albeit in her pajamas, and Cooper was sitting up in bed reading a book. Clint followed the kids down the steps slowly; since he would not be able to catch himself if he were to fall he always took the steps slowly even if he felt relatively balanced. This morning only his right ankle was stiff so he made it downstairs quickly. Laura had the baby already in the high chair with a few toys to keep him occupied and was putting the ingredients together for chocolate chip pancakes, Cooper's birthday breakfast of choice.

Clint kissed the top of Lilah's head and sat next to her at the table, his constant jerking and spasming making the chair creak. She was too busy spreading out her crayons and paper all over the table to acknowledge him. Cooper snagged a handful of crayons to make her angry and giggled when she yelled at him to give them back. "Cooper! Mommy, Cooper took my crayons."

"Charles Cooper, it is _way_ too early for that," Laura scolded without turning around from the sink. "Give her back her crayons, please. Now." Cooper smirked once again and tossed the crayons back. Clint reached across the table and laid his hand on Cooper's wrist before the little boy could pull his arm back, shaking he son's arm.

"Hey, cut that out. You know better than that." Cooper nodded and muttered his apologies, drawing his hand back. "You're ten years old now, not five." Lilah nodded in agreement, her face still full of indignation. She always looked more like her mom when angry, for some reason, and more like Clint when she smiled. Coop was the exact opposite with his father's serious face. So far Nathaniel was definitely daddy's boy with blond hair and round nose. 

Everyone paused when a knock on the door echoed in the hallway. Lilah scrambled from her seat and darted to the door, squealing "Auntie Nat!" as she went. Clint stood to follow her but stopped when he noticed Wanda standing behind Nat. "Auntie Nat, who is this?" Natasha hoisted Lilah further up on her hip and stepped aside so Wanda could walk inside the house. 

"Why don't you ask her yourself, kiddo."

Lilah hesitated and laid her head on Natasha's shoulder. She was certainly more shy than Cooper. "What's your name?"

Wanda tucked a stray hair behind her ear. "Wanda. What is your name?"

"Delilah. I like your bracelets." Lilah turned back to Natasha and leaned into her ear. "Auntie Nat, she sounds like you when you talk Russian."

That made Natasha laugh. "The country she is from and Russia are very similar, baby girl." Clint hobbled over and hugged Wanda as best he could with his shoulders shaking.

"Welcome home, kid." Wanda kissed his cheek and held the hug for some time, long enough for Laura and Cooper to follow everyone else in the hallway. Clint turned and gestured for Laura to come closer. "Wanda, this is my wife. Laura, this is Wanda. Pietro's sister."

For a moment Laura only looked at Wanda. She then stretched her arms out to Wanda's shoulders and pulled her into a hug. "Nice to finally meet you, sweetie." The shock on Wanda's face flashed to sadness then to warmth. She'd almost forgotten what it felt like to have something like a home, and this feeling now was one she did not want to let go of any time soon. Her head popped up when she heard a soft cry from the kitchen. "Oh, that's Nathaniel. He gets upset when he's left alone for too long. Come on in, I'm making breakfast if you guys are hungry."

The group returned to the kitchen and the kids resumed their spots at the table. Nate's whimpers ceased when he noticed that there were new people in the kitchen with mommy and daddy, his face showing his concern. Natasha bent at her waist to bop the baby's nose. "You stop it, there's nothing wrong. Just whining to hear yourself whine." 

Lilah tugged on Wanda's fingers to guide her around Nate's high chair so she could see him. "This is my baby brother, his name is Nathaniel but Auntie Nat calls him 'Shredder Baby.'"

"What does this mean? 'Shredder Baby.'" Wanda looked to Natasha and then to Clint.

"She means 'Traitor Baby.' That's all Nat's fault," Clint grinned as much as his twitching face would allow. "Come on and sit down, kid, we need to eat and get everything cleaned up so we can get ready for the party."

Cooper dropped into his seat once again and waited for Laura to set his plate in front of him. She turned around with two plates, one for Cooper and one for Lilah, but only put Cooper's on the table. "Ma'am," she said to Lilah. "Where do your crayons go when it's time to eat?" The little girl collected all her crayons and papers and sprinted to the coffee table in the living room, returning empty handed only seconds later.

Recently Clint took to standing at the counter to eat with his back turned away from everyone. For one thing if he accidentally pushed his plate back far enough it would stop at the wall the counter was built into, and he did not want his children to see him make a mess. Eating was a slow process for him in addition to extremely frustrating since he could not keep his arms steady enough to bring whatever he managed to scoop with a spoon up to his mouth. Using a fork helped at times, if the food was thick enough. Soup, cereal, spaghetti-anything that was remotely slippery or wet was difficult for him to eat. Not to mention his wife having to help cut up his food as if he were a toddler. Less than a decade ago Clint was cutting up food for his own children, and now his wife had to do the same for a grown man. In only a few months she'd be doing the same for Nathaniel when he started on solid food.

Clint was not even halfway done with his plate when Cooper announced that he was finished. Laura sent him upstairs to shower and then Lilah to pick out some clothes for the day. The little girl asked if Wanda wanted to see her room and without waiting for an answer tugged on the young woman's hand again so she would follow. With the rest of the table vacated, Natasha stood to pop Nate's tray from the high chair and pick the baby up for a quick snuggle. "Hi, little guy. You know, Clint, I think I was just replaced, I'll have to start working on this one so he loves me more than you."

He laughed into the back of his hand since his mouth was full and stopped the moment his neck spasmed and he gagged. Another reason he stood to eat was in case he choked, like now, and he could lean over the sink to spit out whatever was in his mouth. Laura jumped from her seat and slapped at his back until a wad of pancake goop dropped from his mouth and he could breathe easily again. "Here, drink some water," she said, holding the cup in front of his face while she continued to rub his back. "You okay?" About two weeks ago in the middle of dinner Clint almost didn't cough whatever he ate up fast enough and he nearly blacked out. This morning he was able to clear the pancake quickly enough and waved Laura away. "Smaller bites, okay?"

"I'm not three, Laura," he snapped. Clint refused to be babied and felt angry if someone did something for him without asking if he could do it himself. He'd been independent for so long in his life, and it was only in the past four or five weeks that he'd lost that independence somewhat. He refused to let it go without a fight. "I'm going to make sure they're getting ready." Clint stormed upstairs once again leaving Laura, Natasha, and Nathaniel standing in the kitchen.

\-----------

So far, Cooper's birthday party was going smoothly. The kids were all from Cooper's class and Laura knew most of the parents, but few of them had ever even seen Clint at all so he felt a bit awkward standing around a group of men and women he didn't know. Natasha stayed fairly close to him throughout the day to glare at any parents who stared at Clint and his inability to control his movement.

Laura was the emcee of the day and kept everything going without problem, or had a backup plan if something did happen to go wrong. One thing Clint absolutely adored about his wife was her quick but pragmatic thinking; before she married Clint she was a nurse at SHIELD so immediately changing her plans was something of a specialty for her. At times she stopped and checked in with Clint, but for the most part he just wanted to stay out of everyone's way and not be the center of attention. The kids were outside throwing water balloons at each other and running around the yard, their screams echoing around the yard. There was plenty of space for a water balloon war and the day was warm enough for the activity, if a little cloudy. A few of the girls closer to Lilah's age preferred to stay on the front porch and play with some of her dress-up outfits and rule the porch as if it was their kingdom and the boys were their subjects. Adults milled about in packs; some knew each other, others had kids in the same class so they could catch up with each other easily. 

One of the moms was in the kitchen talking with Laura, being more of a distraction than anything. Helen was the mother of a boy in Cooper's class that was the stereotypical soccer mom; she headed the PTA and organized most of the bake sales, spent most of her afternoons shuttling her kids to dance class and karate and music lessons. She gave off the air of perfection but Laura knew that behind her back her husband was "working late" with some 19 year old in his office. That always made Laura feel smug, for some reason.

"I just love your house, Laura, were the additions already put in when you bought the house or did you add those later?" Helen sipped at her drink as she walked slowly around the kitchen, peeking into various rooms as she went. Laura was busy putting on the finishing touches to Cooper's cake to really pay attention to her.

"Um, no, my husband did almost all of them, actually. The only thing he didn't do was the roof but we had that replaced a few years ago while he was away, after he finished the sunroom." 

Helen stopped in the middle of the kitchen and turned back to Laura. "He's able to do that kind of thing? With his condition?"

Suddenly Laura felt exponentially angry, but she kept her face stoic. "No, he put in the additions beforehand."

"You're a very brave woman, you know," Helen continued as if Laura had not said a word. "Taking care of two children, a new baby, and your husband. I wouldn't know what I would do if Scott wasn't able to help around the house like that." Laura's grip tightened on the cake knife in her hand. If she was a violent woman at all, Helen would be missing her face about now.

"Clint helps with what he can," she finally said through gritted teeth. Laura needed to change the subject and decided then that there were enough frog cutouts on Cooper's cake. Cooper really wanted a frog theme for his party, and it was Natasha's idea to put Kermit's tank in the center of the table with a little party hat on the lid. "Would you mind moving the fruit bowl off the table, please? I'm going to put the cake there."

Helen set her drink down and immediately began chattering once again as she moved the bowl. "Oh my God, Laura, you would not believe what happened the other day. I had to go into the city because Target is the only place around here that sells organic avocados. And I drive almost an hour to the store and they're completely out!" Laura nodded at the appropriate times but otherwise ignored her. "And you know what, Laura? I'm sick of Target sometimes. I had to ask the manager when they're getting another batch and do you know what he said? He said I had to wait until next month! Unbelievable!"

Laura scoffed at her mentally. _If only my family's problems were that petty,_ she thought. But Laura wouldn't give up on her husband, not as long as there was still a breath in her body. She loved her family too much, whether they were biologically related like her children or added like Natasha. Her thoughts were interrupted, however, when glass shattered somewhere in the work room and Clint's voice echoed down the hallway.

"Fuck!"

Laura abandoned the cake at the table and hurried down the hall, calling Clint's name as she went. "I'm alright, Laura," he called back. She pulled the sliding door open to find Clint standing in the middle of shards of broken glass, a puddle of soda splashed all over the floor. Clint's face was flushed from embarrassment and shame. "I was, uh--I tried to clean up a little bit. It slipped."

She went into the room, sliding the door closed behind her, and rubbed his shoulders. "Don't worry about it, honey, we have plenty of glasses. I'll get you a broom to sweep it up. Hey," she whispered, holding his face in her hands. "Just relax, okay?" Clint nodded and closed his eyes.

"I love you, Mrs. Barton."

"And I love you, Mr. Barton."

\-----------

With the cake cut and all of the kids running their sugar-induced highs off outside, Clint wandered outside to sit in the rocking chair on the porch. Nate was in the playpen next to him snoozing, sucking intently on a pacifier but otherwise oblivious to the activity around him. On the other side Natasha sat in the stationary chair, her feet propped on the rim of the play pen. "Man, it's been a day," she muttered. Clint only grinned at her.

"We get to do this three times a year, now. Lilah's birthday is up next, then we'll have a bunch of screaming little girls running around. And you know she'll be completely devastated if you don't come to that."

Natasha reached into the play pen to grab of of Nate's toys and threw it at Clint's face. "She's smitten with Wanda now, I'll probably be long forgotten by then," she dramatically sighed. Clint chuckled to himself and stretched his legs out in front of him. Since his torso was constantly jerking the chair faltered as he rocked but for the most part he was relaxed. He was enjoying being outside with his son and his best friend, not having to worry about anything but mosquitos in a few hours. Clint closed his eyes and continued to rock, his hand on the rim of the play pen. A few of the kids were playing by the side of the house with some of Cooper's new toys and he could hear bits and pieces of the conversation.

"Is your dad retarded," a little boy asked, presumably to Cooper. 

"No," Cooper shot back. "He's not."

"Why is he such a spaz, then?"

Cooper's voice grew much more commanding. "He's not! He just has something wrong in his brain, that's all."

"So then he's retarded."

"He is not! Shut up," shouted Cooper, his voice breaking. Natasha's eyebrows shot up at the sound and as soon as she heard the beginnings of a scuffle she dashed off the front porch and around the side of the house, Clint following as quickly as possible behind her. Cooper and the other little boy, Brayden, pushed and shoved at each other until they were both on the ground, Cooper wildly swinging his fists in Brayden's direction. None of the swings landed on the boy's face but both were getting mud all over their clothes. Natasha grabbed Cooper around his waist and hauled him upward to put some distance between the boys, setting Cooper in front of Clint so dad could take over. She then did the same to Brayden and stood with her hand clenched around his arm. Other adults came running, including Brayden's parents.

"Hey, lady, don't touch my kid," Scott, Helen's husband, shouted down the lawn. Natasha stood her ground; she could easily incapacitate Scott and snap his neck faster than he could blink if she wanted to. Regardless, she let go of Brayden's arm. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Brayden looked to his dad and immediately began pouting. "Cooper hit me, dad," he whined. "We were just playing and then he got mad and he hit me." Brayden was forcibly working himself up to cry for sympathy. Cooper, however, wouldn't hear any of it.

"That's not true! He said mean things about my dad," Cooper nearly screamed back. Clint held on to his son's shoulder as best he could to comfort the little boy. "I told him to stop and he kept making fun of my dad." 

Scott pointed his finger directly at Cooper's face. "That doesn't give you the right to haul off and swing at my kid, you little punk."

"Back up, man," Clint warned, pulling Cooper around so the little boy was behind him. The commotion was drawing other adults including Wanda, who jogged over to the group with Lilah toddling along behind her. 

Scott grabbed Brayden's arm and stormed off in the direction of the house to find his wife. "Fuck you, freak," he called back. Lilah's mouth dropped in shock at hearing such a bad word. They waited for Scott to slam the back door of the house before relaxing, at least momentarily. Wanda drew the group's attention.

"Natasha," she said, barely above a whisper and nodding in Clint's direction. "Он ће ускоро потрести." 

It took her a moment before she realized what Wanda was talking about. She then noticed Clint's foot beginning to turn inward and sent both kids back into the house to get Laura. "Clint, you need to sit down." The muscles in his cheek were beginning to twitch as if to warn him of the oncoming storm and as he moved to sit his leg locked up and he lost his balance. Natasha caught him by the shoulder before his head slammed against the ground. Some of the adults pulled their children back as if whatever was causing Clint to convulse was contagious. 

Laura shoved her way through the group carrying a pillow to place under his head so he would not bruise Natasha's leg again. His right leg twisted to the point that the toe of his shoe was digging into the dirt and his fingers cramped at strange angles. Laura could hear his joints pop and groan as the intense contractions contorted his limbs and caused him to rhythmically jerk against the ground. Laura kneeled by his head, mud soaking into the knees of her jeans, and rubbed his shoulder. "Remember to breathe, honey, come on." Clint groaned out an 'uh huh' as best he could and sucked as much air into his chest as he could before the next contraction overcame his ribcage.

Because he remained conscious throughout every 'storm,' he could see the reactions of the adults and children surrounding them. One little girl cried into her father's shoulder. Some adults looked at him with pity, others disgust. Cooper only looked disappointed.

As his spasms slowed, Lilah knelt in front of her father alongside her mother to talk to Clint and keep him company. Natasha was busy ushering parents away and to send them home, the party definitely over, while Wanda went to check on the baby. The door slamming woke Nate at some point but he was a patient baby and only squirmed when he saw Wanda's somewhat familiar face. She plucked him from the play pen and held him close to her chest, laying her chin against Nate's soft downy hair. Nate saw that as the perfect opportunity to chew at his fingers.

"Hi, daddy," Lilah said, laying her head on the pillow and curling on her side in a mirror image of her father.

"Hi, guh, hi, baby girl," he choked out. Clint looked very similar to Nate when he was still a tiny baby learning to coordinate his limbs. The storm appeared to be over but Clint was too tired to try to stand just yet.

Lilah played with her left pig tail, chattering away at unimportant things so Clint had someone to talk to rather than feel embarrassed by other people staring at him. As shy as she was, Lilah was a very intuitive little girl. Whenever the baby cried she could usually guess the cause and could make Nate smile with reckless abandon. When Clint regained control over his limbs, he stretched across the pillow to kiss Lilah's head. When he first arrived home, after the diagnosis, Lilah sat with Clint on the bed and played with Laura's old stethoscope as he came down from a storm, pretending to be a doctor. Clint always swore that she helped him feel better.

Ten minutes after the storm ended, Natasha helped him sit up and get to his feet. Most of the parents and their children left, but one or two stayed behind to see him safely into the house. Clint and Lilah's clothes were both stained in mud, Cooper's less so, and Laura sent both kids upstairs to change into something clean so she could see the other parents off and thank them for coming. She needed to feed the baby and put him back down for a nap anyway, and Clint would most likely want to nap as well.

Natasha and Wanda got him as far as the bedroom where Laura took over helping him undress. Once the button on this jeans was undone, Clint could undress and redress himself, although he usually sat down to do so since his balance was fucked up. His muscles ached as if he'd spent the entire day chopping wood. When he managed to change back into his pajama pants and lay on the bed, Laura sidled onto the bed next to him with Nathaniel in her arms. She held the baby towards Clint so he could kiss and growl against the baby's cheek.

"There's daddy's hungry man," he said through a yawn. Nate balled his little fists and brought them to his mouth to chew on something until Laura was read to nurse him. He immediately went to town, chirping with satisfaction as he nursed. Clint dozed off a few minutes later.

\-------------

Wanda could feel that something was very wrong.

The five of them (Laura, Natasha, Wanda, and the older kids) were returning home after a quick trip to town for ice cream to sooth Cooper's distress over how his party ended. Clint and Nate stayed at home; Clint was soundly asleep by the time Nate was finished eating and the baby followed soon after. He usually slept for at least an hour after he ate so Laura figured that would be enough time to take everyone out for a quick trip and back. But as she pulled the SUV into the driveway Wanda voiced her concerns. 

Natasha was immediately on the defensive walking up to the house, her pistol drawn. Wanda trailed behind her, followed by Laura who ordered the kids to stay in the car and wait. As the three approached the house and unlocked the door, the sound of Nathaniel screaming upstairs echoed throughout the house. Laura moved to dart upstairs for her son but Natasha stopped her. "Wanda, scan the house," she whispered.

"There is no one other than the baby and Mr. Barton," she announced after only a few seconds. "They are both upstairs." Without a moment's hesitation Laura charged up the stairs, following Nate's shrill screams into the bedroom. The baby's face was flushed nearly purple from the exertion of crying so hard, his fingers splayed out from the effort. Tears rolled down the side of his face and his voice cracked with each piercing wail. Nate kicked his feet and flailed his arms searching for someone to comfort him. 

Laura's feet pounded against the steps as she ran for her baby. The bedroom was a disaster, pictures all over the floor and glass figurines shattered suggesting some type of struggle, but Laura ignored all of it as she reached for her son in the basinet and checked him quickly for any sign of injury. Apart from crying so hard, he appeared to be fine. Whatever caused the mess in the room must have scared him. "Shhh, mommy's here, baby, mommy's got you." Nate continued crying to drive home the fact that he was in distress but the volume of his cries drastically lowered when he realized that mommy held him. 

Natasha continued checking the rooms for any sign of intruder and, seeing none, returned to the bedroom. Wanda stood in front of the closed bathroom door, waiting for Natasha to return so she could open it. "He is there." Natasha nodded and turned the knob, calling Clint's name.

Clint sat on the floor of the bathroom, his back against the tub. His eyes were wet and bloodshot, his face and neck flushed. Wanda did not need to read him at all to see that this was pure anguish. The emotion rolled off him in waves. Natasha knelt in front of him, not wanting to touch without his permission. "Clint, what happened?"

_I can't hold him._

She waited patiently for an explanation, watching the tears pour from the rims of Clint's eyes. The intense emotions Clint felt only made his tremors worse and he struggled to wipe the tears from his face. "I can't hold my son, Nat. I can't pick him up without dropping him." 

Laura appeared in the doorway with the baby secure in her arms. Nate quieted but was still visibly shaken from the ordeal, sucking on his fingers for comfort. "How does he know I love him, Nat? Does he think I don't love him because I won't pick him up?" Clint been speaking rapidly, his heart rate beginning to skyrocket as panic crept into his chest. "And Laura, we can't have sex or fool around or anything and she deserves so much better than that." 

He looked to Natasha as a broken man looks to God for answers. "I can't be a father like this. I can't be a father or a husband or take care of my children. The doctor said it's genetic--oh my God, Nat, what if one of my babies has this?!" She finally inched forward and laid her fingers at the pulse point of his neck. Clint's pulse was extremely rapid and he was hyperventilating, caught in the middle of a panic attack. Natasha massaged his hand and told him to breathe along with her to calm him down, drawing her breaths slowly, in through her nose and out through her mouth. She never shushed him or said much of anything, really, only sat with him until his heart rate lowered to reasonable levels. Lilah and Cooper walked into the room once, asking what was wrong with daddy, but Laura shooed them back out of the room. 

Fifteen minutes of slow breathing and Clint felt stable enough to lay back down on the bed. Tears continued to fall, and Laura wiped each one as she lay next to him with Nate snoozing on her chest. Screaming with such ferocity sapped the baby's energy and he fell asleep after mommy rocked him for a while. Clint rested against Laura's shoulder, alternating between silently weeping against the top of Nate's head and muttering how much he loved his baby boy. 

Natasha left the pair to go check on the older kids, but Wanda stepped back into the room anxiously worrying one of her fingernails. "I can help you hold him," she said, barely above a whisper. Clint and Laura looked in her direction with confusion. "For little while, I can help you hold him."

Laura thumbed some of Nate's hair that was gradually beginning to curl. "What do you mean, sweetie?"

"I can make you steady, for a few minutes. So you can hold him." 

Clint's face went from devastation to one of hope. "Would you? Please?" The younger woman nodded, closing her eyes to concentrate on quieting the misfiring neurons in Clint's brain. The tremors slowed gradually to the point that Clint looked to have complete control over his body like he did only a few months ago. All his movements were deliberate and easy, nothing forced or jerking. Laura immediately sat up and moved the baby to Clint's chest as gently as she could without waking him up.

With Nate on his chest, Clint closed his eyes and cried as if he held the baby for the very first time. Nate lay there calmly, his mouth hanging open and occasionally moving as if he was chewing on his pacifier in his sleep. If Clint could make this feeling last for the rest of his life, he would gladly do so. Wanda's hands glowed a deep and soothing red with the effort of keeping Clint still. "He knows that you love him. When he is awake, and you talk to him, he is very happy baby. I can read him and he does not doubt you love him. He knows."

Clint sniffled against Nate's head and pat the baby's back, just like he did two and a half months ago before all this bullshit began. He would do almost anything to rewind the clock, and if he knew this was going to happen he would never have let the baby out of his arms. But tonight he only had a few minutes, and instead of focusing on how great it felt to finally be still for the first time in months he spent the entire time memorizing the feeling of his son sleeping on his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgot to mention, just about all the dialogue for Helen was provided by vxsilias!


	6. Adaptation

204 days AU  
\------------------

Clint woke to the sound of chatter from the baby monitor on the night stand. Nathaniel was not saying anything recognizable yet but there were a few sounds that he was repeating frequently ("deet-deet" being his current favorite) and since the baby usually woke up earlier than the rest of the family he often lay in the crib experimenting with new sounds until someone came to get him for breakfast. Clint typically allowed himself a few minutes to just listen to his son babble away. As with his other kids, moving the baby from mommy and daddy's room to the nursery was always rough on Clint and for the first few days he would get up in the middle of the night to go check on whichever kid took up nursery space at the time. Laura would then tell Clint he was insane and to go back to bed.

In the four months since Clint's diagnosis he made a number of lifestyle changes suggested to him by an occupational therapist. It took some convincing form Laura but eventually he underwent the battery of tests Dr. Moore wanted him to do and visit the grocery list of various specialists. Apart from Dr. Moore, Clint now had an occupational therapist, physical therapist, and a swallow specialist. He was given a speech test but apparently his speech was fine according to _that_ therapist, except for those times a storm affected his neck and vocal cords. The swallow specialist he only saw once a month for a few minutes primarily to show her that he could still do the list of exercises and swallowing techniques, which he did regularly because Laura made him do the exercises religiously. Two therapists came to the house, the occupational therapist and the assistive technology specialist, both of whom liked to involved the kids in Clint's therapy as much as the schedule would allow.

Since Nate was six months old his pediatrician recommended adding rice or cereal to breast milk, so part of Clint's therapy was simply feeding the baby with a spoon. Thanks to the assistive technology specialist, Clint could now feed Nathaniel with an elbow anchor that suction cupped onto Nate's high-chair tray. The anchor kept his arm steady enough not to fling mushy baby food all over the place but allowed him enough room to scoop food from the bowl. His arm still jerked a bit, and sometimes his wrist went rogue and he dropped the spoon entirely, but with practice (and stripping Nate of whatever onesie he was wearing) Clint managed not to make _too_ much of a mess. 

Slowly, these little additions became Clint's life. An electric shaver replaced his razor, he had his own cupboard of oddly shaped plates and bowls that made eating dinner less of a travesty. There were a few things that he still had difficulty with such as eating soup or cereal, buttons, or picking up the baby. Now that Nate could sit up for the most part (he still used at least one hand for balance) Clint could sit on the floor with the baby in his lap and play with him or cuddle. Lilah found that if she stood on a chair or piece of furniture first Clint could somewhat hold her for a short period of time, otherwise she was happy just to sit on his lap or curl up next to him. Instead of archery with Cooper, which Clint missed terribly, they played soccer. When Wanda visited she also played, although Clint cheekily poked fun at her by saying soccer was Europe's only sport so it wasn't fair that she could easily kick both their asses.

Some days were better than others. For every good day full of improvements Clint had days where nothing seemed to work and his frustration boiled over to the point that he had to step away. There were days when he managed to get through dinner without choking or spilling everything down the front of his shirt, and others where he knocked over glasses and dropped entire meals on the ground. Anytime Nate got the hang of leaning forward to chase after the spoon there were also days when Clint couldn't steady himself enough and the baby would get frustrated and angry. Lilah would want him to draw something, Cooper wanted to help work on a part of the house that Clint had not done in nearly six months. Those days he just walked back upstairs and lay on the bed for about an hour before getting up and trying again. Clint had not had a day that resulted in destroying anything since Cooper's birthday party.

But then there were days that he cherished. Wanda helped him hold the baby any time she was there, or helped him keep steady long enough to put Lilah's hair in a ponytail, tie his own shoes, write his name on a form; all the little things he took for granted. Natasha took the kids into town one afternoon so Clint and Laura could at least attempt to have sex since it took time that they didn't have with three kids in the house. There were a few positions that just wouldn't work, but Laura was able to ride him while Clint was on his back. Something the occupational therapist suggested was to just explore each other as if they were engaging in sexual activity for the first time, and Clint found that he really enjoyed spending an hour or two kissing almost every square inch of his wife's body. If anything, they could do that while the kids were in bed. Oral sex was great since he could stabilize his torso against the bed and Laura could keep his head steady with her thighs, no doubt a technique Natasha taught her. Guys were easy; all Laura had to do was jerk him off on occasion and he was satisfied but Clint still wanted to please Laura as best he could. Sometimes they were happy making out like teenagers and groping each other in the dark. It took longer, and they could not be as rough or creative in their positions but they managed to fool around about once a week on average. If anything it was a start.

Eventually Nate grew bored with rolling around in his crib and he let out a whine that he knew would let Mommy or Daddy know he was awake and ready for breakfast. Well, Mommy always picked him up to take him downstairs but Daddy liked to watch sometimes. Fresh bright snow covered the ground outside and frosted the windows, and downstairs in the living room stood a Christmas tree full of shiny ornaments that Nate couldn't reach. Lilah brought up Santa Claus at least 400 times per day and Cooper wanted hot chocolate every night. Christmas was rapidly approaching in the Barton household evidenced by the sparkly decorations all over the house. On the fridge, pictures of butterflies and horses turned to snowmen and the Nativity.

Laura answered the baby first with Clint following, setting out a new diaper and change of clothes as she went. Although Clint could not really change the baby's diaper the changing table was high enough that Clint could almost drape himself over the baby for a quick snuggle before getting him dressed. These days Nathaniel covered the fronts of every last onesie or shirt with drool caused by new teeth painfully poking through his gums. His blond hair also curled at the ends and sometimes whenever he had a bath Lilah stood at the top of his little plastic tub and played with his hair, gently tugging it into a little wet mohawk or a very short spike. He could roll from his belly onto his back, was working on rolling the other way around, and sometimes he wiggled hard enough that he managed to scoot a few feet in a given direction. Playing in the jumper saucer and the door jumper helped, and Nate could easily spend an hour or two hopping around and squealing at everything he saw. 

With a new diaper and a change of clothes, Laura held the baby on her left hip and grabbed the laundry hamper with the right. Saturdays and Sundays meant laundry day and although he was the smallest, Nathaniel produced the most laundry due to the excessive amount of drool and the mess he made whenever Clint fed him. Lilah often got paint or pastel on her clothes whenever she worked on an art project, but Laura was going to fix that issue because "Santa" was going to bring her a little artist smock for her to wear and get messy rather than her clothes. Most of Cooper's laundry came from getting muddy but since the cold weather hit he was indoors more often. Now that the older kids were home for Christmas break the house was back to its typical levels of disaster that constituted a mess but unlike during the summer Laura kept the kids on something of a schedule.

Clint followed Laura and the baby downstairs, talking to Laura about Christmas plans as they went. They would need to finalize the flight plan out to Florida so they could visit Laura's side of the family and the kids could see their grandparents, but they also considered bringing Natasha since this would also be the baby's first flight and Laura would have her hands full. If something were to go wrong or Clint had a storm in the middle of an airport, something that was bound to happen knowing his luck, Laura would have to deal with too many things at once. And if Natasha couldn't go, maybe Wanda would want to go instead.

He also planned on returning to the training facility after New Years. Clint loved him family with every cell in his body, but he also wanted to work and help in some capacity. He could still use his voice and shout, so maybe he could run drills or help with tactics; anything to get him out of the house and feeling like he was useful to someone again. Nat could tell him he was part of the team until she ran out of breath doing so, but at the end of the day when Clint was sitting on the couch after accomplishing jack shit he felt like he was wasting his life.

In the kitchen Laura set Nate in the high-chair and worked on mixing some milk she pumped the previous night with cereal. Today they were going to start him on jar bananas (with cereal to thicken it) after breakfast to see if Nate would enjoy the new taste. If he was anything like his older brother Nate would demand fruit rather than the cereal and milk mush, but if Lilah influenced him Nate would be an extremely picky eater. Clint could eat anything placed in front of him, so the boys' appetite probably came from their daddy. Laura wasn't ready for her baby to grow up so quickly but she did agree that not having Nate attached to her breast all day made keeping the house in order much easier, and Clint enjoyed feeding the baby. With Nate's mush mixed and heated, Clint strapped his elbow into the anchor and positioned the bowl so he could reach easily. Nate babbled and banged on the tray with impatience. 

"Hold your horses, bud, I'm working on it," scolded Clint, scooping the mush onto the spoon and inching it toward the baby's mouth. "Open up, little man." Nate chased the spoon until it was in his mouth then bit down, half of it dribbling out the side and onto his chin. He also had a habit of biting down on the spoon and not letting go while he swallowed, which both of the older kids did so Clint wasn't worried about it. The rubber at the end of the spoon protected the baby's gums and teeth so there was very little chance of Nate being hurt. 

"So if we leave on Sunday we can spend New Years at my parents' and then come back on the second," Laura said while looking at a calendar hanging up next to the window above the sink. "That'd give us a week, and once we come back you would have a few days before heading out to the training facility." Laura's parents knew about Clint's diagnosis but they were yet to actually see him in person or in a video of some kind. She liked to send pictures and videos of the kids to her parents since Florida and Iowa were so far apart and Laura's mother complained if she didn't receive enough updates of the kids.

"Yeah, that'd be fine. Maybe this time when we go you don't come back pregnant," Clint grinned. Laura became pregnant with Cooper as well as Nate while they were visiting her parents so recently it became a bit of a joke anytime they considered visiting. She turned away from the calendar and nudged Clint with her hip, then leaned forward to kiss him. 

"I think three kids and a 40-something-year-old is enough for me," Laura whispered into his ear. She stood with her arms around his neck for a few moments, her cheek against his temple, then took the spoon from Clint to scoop the excess cereal from Nate's chin before it dribbled all over his lap. "Nathaniel, tell daddy you don't want to be a big brother." The baby kicked his feet from excitement at the attention and babbled some type of response. 

Clint kissed her once more before turning his attention back to finishing the bowl of cereal. A _thump_ from upstairs meant that one of the kids was awake and mobile, if not both of them, and less than a minute later Lilah wandered into the kitchen rubbing her eyes. Clint leaned as far back as the elbow anchor would allow him and kissed Lilah's cheek. "Morning, baby girl." She leaned into his shoulder and wrapped her arms around his neck as if he was holding her, a barely audible whine vibrating from her throat. "What's wrong, baby? You sleep good?" 

Lilah shook her head against his shoulder. "No, there was a ghost in the barn last night." Of the older kids, Lilah was the generally the nervous one; storms, closets, shadows, and spooky noises at night made her run down the hallway and into Clint and Laura's room. Laura tugged her away from Clint's neck so he could finish feeding the baby and picked her up, swaying somewhat as she readied the coffee machine. As soon as the machine began dripping Cooper came into the kitchen sliding on his socks as if ice skating. Laura scolded him before the little boy slipped on the floor, to which Cooper pouted and dropped into a seat at the kitchen table.

"Hey dad, why were you in the barn last night?"

Clint stopped with the baby spoon mid-air, Nathaniel wriggling and trying to reach. "I wasn't, why?"

"I saw someone turn on the light, I thought it was you."

He set the baby spoon and bowl down and unstrapped his arm from the elbow anchor. Nathaniel immediately dipped his fingers in the bowl, bringing his hand to his mouth to suck on his fingers until Laura unlocked the tray and unstrapped him. Clint walked down the hall to the closet for his coat. "Kids, stay here with mom."

Outside, the cold slapped him in the face and immediately worked on creeping into his bones. The thin pajama pants were not warm enough to be outside for too long so Clint jogged over to the barn and peaked into the window. Nothing appeared out of place save for the light hanging from the middle rafter. Could be a wire shorting out. Clint definitely did not go into the barn yesterday. There were no tracks he could see along the ground, but the snow was also fresh so if there were tracks they'd be completely covered. He reached into a compartment in the back of his thick coat and brought out his Glock; he was never the best shot with a gun, especially now that he had minimal control over his limbs, but the fact that he held one would hopefully scare whoever may have wondered into the barn.

Clint yanked the wooden door open and slowly stuck his head inside. Without noticing anyone immediately, he stepped in completely and shut the door behind him, the gun wavering in his hand. The barn was completely quiet save for the sound of Clint's shuffling feet as he slowly perused the barn. Seeing nothing, he turned to exit the barn and go back inside until a voice echoed behind him.

"You're slippin', baby brother."

He turned immediately and pointed his Glock at the source of the voice, the nuzzle landing a mere inch from the tip of Barney's nose. Clint managed to hold the position for about three seconds before his shoulder shook once again and he dropped the gun to his side. "Barney, are you fucking kidding me?"

They regarded each other for a moment, just staring at each other, until Barney grinned and rubbed the rusty brown hair at the back of his neck. "Yeah, man, thought I'd come see the squirts for Christmas."

"Lilah saw you last night, she thought you were a ghost."

"Yeah, I tried to get here before everybody went to bed but I didn't want to wake you up or nothin' so I just crashed out here for the night." Barney kicked at some straw on the ground and stuffed his hands in his coat pocket. "You gonna let me inside the house? It's too cold out here and you're shaking."

Clint stuffed the Glock back into the compartment in his coat and turned on his heels. "Come on, then. And close the door behind you." Barney jogged back to a pile behind the large tractor and grabbed a duffel bag, running to catch up to Clint. He tugged the door closed and ran once again, his feet throwing snow in different directions. When Clint opened the front door, Laura stuck her head into the hallway from the kitchen. "It's alright, honey, it's just Barney."

Laura visibly breathed a sigh of relief and stepped out into the hallway, Nathaniel against her hip. Lilah and Cooper followed her down the hall, at least until Cooper saw Barney. The little boy darted in front of his mother and ran down the hall to crash into Barney and hug him around his waist. Barney pat Cooper's head and hugged him around his shoulders. "Hey, dude, how's my favorite 10-year-old?"

Cooper's grin stretched from ear to ear. "Good. Lilah thought you were a ghost last night."

"That's what your dad said. Sorry if I scared you guys. Where's my favorite monkey, anyway?" Lilah's head peered around Laura's hip and she smirked at Barney in mock offense.

"I'm not a monkey!"

Barney held out his left arm so she would give him a hug, his right arm still wound around Cooper's shoulders. "Well, you're _my_ monkey, how about that?" The only reason Barney called her 'monkey' was because of her ability to climb just about anything, including people, like a small lemur. About every other week after the little girl began walking Clint would call up Barney saying Lilah about gave him a heart attack from climbing onto things she shouldn't. When he'd hugged both of the older kids Barney stepped in front of Laura and kissed her cheek. "Hey, sis. This the new one?"

Nathaniel peered up at Barney with confusion, unsure about yet another new person in the house but especially one that looked like his daddy. With various Avengers coming and going, new people did not scare Nate but most of the people who visited were clean-shaven and neat while this new person's scruffy appearance made Nate apprehensive. Barney wiggled his finger against Nate's chubby cheek until the baby barely grinned and tucked his chin into his shoulder. "Poor kid, looks like his daddy."

"And he still looks better than you," chided Clint while putting his coat back into the closet. "We were just about to get breakfast started and I was feeding the little man. You hungry, Barn?"

"Always, little brother."

It was only within the past few years that Barney started getting his life into some semblance of stability, since around the time Lilah was born. Barney never wanted kids of his own but seeing his little brother grow up into a father despite all the horrible shit they both went through made Barney want to be less of a human dumpster fire. He managed to get a job and keep it, he paid for his apartment and food and a home phone, and he even occasionally fucked. Barney didn't have much, but he certainly had more than either of them did growing up. His sister-in-law liked him (or at least tolerated him), and his niece and nephew liked him even though he wasn't around frequently. Even though Barney was over 50, his felt like his life was leveling out.

In the kitchen Laura resumed digging out boxes of cereal, oatmeal, and milk. Nathaniel was too interested in Barney to continue eating in the highchair, instead Laura threw a thin blanket over her shoulder and chest to nurse him. With each of her babies as soon as they started eating thicker food she would miss the bonding that occurred from breastfeeding even though at times it was a toll on her body to wake up at odd hours or put the entire day on hold for the baby to eat. Clint worked on getting a bowl of oatmeal ready for himself while the older kids fought over who got the milk jug first. With the oatmeal in the bowl, Laura reached across the table and slid the jug over to Cooper. "Pour that for daddy, please. Not too thin."

"I know, mom," Cooper whined, turning over the jug. Clint preferred his oatmeal on the thinner side but since he had less control over what his limbs did the oatmeal stayed on the spoon better if it was thick and sticky. Barney watched the exchange with confusion, noticing the way that Clint's torso constantly jerked.

"You cold, little brother?"

Lilah, sitting at the table and kicking her feet under the chair, chirped up. "Daddy's got something wrong in his brain, it makes him wiggle like that."

Barney looked from Lila to Laura to Clint, focusing on the rhythmic spasms of Clint's shoulders and limbs. "What the hell is she talking about?" Clint kept his gaze lowered. "Hey, answer me."

"I have dystonia. The part of my brain that controls motor movement is fucked up." Lilah covered her mouth in shock at hearing her dad say such a word. Laura scolded both of them for their language which caused Barney to grab Clint by the shoulder and drag him into another room out of earshot of the kids.

"What the fuck is going on," Barney grumbled quietly, his hand still on Clint's shoulder. Sometimes whenever someone touched him the neurons in Clint's brain were "tricked" and the spasms slowed but just barely. 

"It started after all that bullshit with Ultron, a few weeks after Nate was born. I went back to train with Nat and everyone else and my hands started to cramp up. Then it felt like I was constantly being tasered and in the middle of training it looked like I had a seizure of some kind. Stark called in a neurologist, ran a fuck-ton of tests, and dystonia is what came out of it." 

Barney looked away and covered his mouth with his hand, trying to organize his thoughts. He turned back around and tucked his hands back in his pocket, simultaneously looking as though he were a lost little boy and as if he aged a decade. "Is it a brain tumor? Can you die from it?"

Clint shook his head. "No, something really deep in the middle of my brain got fucked up. Doc said it could've been from any number of things but no tumors. And no, I can't die from it, I just can't keep my limbs still."

"Can you shoot?"

"...no. Not anymore."

They both stared down at the floor until Barney raised his head and pulled Clint toward him for a hug, his hand on the back of Clint's neck. Neither of them were particularly affectionate with each other, no more than any other pair of brothers who grew up in some of the most fucked up circumstances possible, but Barney was smart enough to know what archery meant to his little brother. That and Barney refused to allow his brother to see him _almost_ cry. 

Both returned to the kitchen to find Laura trying to burp the baby with Cooper and Lilah arguing over something. Clint stepped in and yelled over top their voices so they would quiet down. "Hey, what's the problem? Actually, I really don't care what the problem is, it's not even nine in the morning so whatever it is can stop right now."

Lilah pouted, her lower lip stuck out. "Cooper said since Uncle Barney is here, I have to sleep out in the barn now."

Immediately Cooper jumped in to save himself from getting into trouble. "It was just a joke! I didn't mean it, she's just being a baby."

When Clint reached the table and sat back down in the chair he originally occupied, Lilah got up from her spot and clambered onto Clint's lap. "For that, you can be done with breakfast. Clean out your bowl and leave the table, please." Before Cooper could whine in protest, Clint shook his head, unwilling to hear any of it. "Joking is fine, but you know better than to belittle your sister."

Cooper did as he was told and stomped out of the kitchen, dropping himself into the living room couch to pout. Instead of giving him the attention he obviously wanted, Clint and Laura focused on finishing breakfast. Barney used the break to pull his chair over to Nathaniel and take him from Laura's arms. "What's up, little guy? I'm your uncle Barney. Sorry I didn't come see ya sooner, but you have the memory of a garden slug right now so you won't remember me next week. Isn't that right, buddy? Yeah, that's right." Barney's voice was high pitched and playful which caused Nate to kick his feet and flail his arms in excitement. When Barney sat down with him in his lap, Nate tried to scratch at the stubble growing on Barney's cheeks and chin. Of the three kids, Nathaniel looked the most like Clint, so by extension he also looked the most like Barney although his face was rounder and hair lighter.

"Ya know, Barn, we're taking the kids down to Florida to visit her parents next week if you want to crash here while we're gone," said Clint while trying to scoop oatmeal around the bowl. All his usual bowls were currently in the dishwasher so this one did not have a lip on the inside that helped with scooping. Barney watched him struggle with the task, the bowl scooting across the table or oatmeal plopping over the side of the bowl. 

"Uh, yeah," Barney stammered. "Yeah, I could do that. As long as I get free run of the fridge." Barney grinned at him until he noticed Nate chewing on his finger with fierce determination. "Dude, I'm sure my fingers don't taste good at all."

Laura finished pouring coffee into a few mugs and brought them over to the table, turning around once to grab a clean straw for Clint's mug. "He's at the phase where he gnaws on anything he can get his hands on, you should see the marks he's already made on the crib upstairs and you can hardly see his teeth coming in." The crib was another item they had to re-buy, as well as the high chair, but Nate already made them both his own and chewed the tiniest of dents into the wood of the top railing of his crib. Before they left for Florida, Laura needed to remember to buy the baby a set of teething rings or something else he could chew on while they traveled.

Watching Clint eat, or in this case _attempting_ to eat, was difficult for Barney, especially when Clint bent to suck at his coffee through the straw while his shoulders and arms continued to jerk around. Barney wanted to just take the spoon and feed his little brother himself, but he also knew that Clint would have an absolute meltdown if he did so. Ever since they were toddlers Clint would get upset if someone did something that he could do himself. Instead of watching Clint and his pathetic attempt at just eating breakfast, Barney kept his attention on making Nate laugh. Lilah could make the baby laugh just by looking at him sometimes, and Clint suspected that the baby thought her pigtails were funny. He had no idea what made any of his kids smile when they were newborns; Cooper would laugh at a lamp set up near his bassinet and Lilah would laugh at the fan slowly spinning around in the living room. 

"Barney, do you want the cot set up in the work room or would you want it set up in one of the kids rooms? The nursery would have more space but Nate also likes to get up early," said Laura over the rim of her coffee cup. "And no, nobody is sleeping out in the barn." Lilah smirked at her mom's banter in her direction. Barney was busy shuttling the baby around in slow circles and making airplane noises with his mouth.

"Wherever I'm least in the way, I don't want anyone to have to trip over me."

"Nate's room it is then, since he can't actually walk yet. Right, little man? Who's got you, Nutter Butter?" Clint, having given up trying to eat without making a giant mess, set his bowl down in the sink and ran the water to clear it out. He then turned toward Nathaniel and pat the baby's head as best he could, careful not to accidentally poke him in the eye like he did last week. Poor little guy cried for an hour and Clint felt guilty as fuck all day. "I'm going to go dig the cot out. Cooper, you can help me."

Lilah immediately dropped her spoon on the table and darted from her chair toward the steps. "I want to help!" Clint followed them up the steps slowly, calling out instructions about where to set the cot. It wasn't a small military cot like the ones Clint was used to as a new recruit for SHIELD, actually once it was set up with the air mattress on top it was basically a short twin size bed. Barney's feet still hung over the side but it was certainly more comfortable than sleeping on the cot itself. After a few moments of quiet (save for Nate's babbling), Barney turned himself toward Laura.

"You doing okay, sis? With all that twitching bullshit?"

She smirked at his callousness. "If that's Nathaniel's first word then you'll _really_ be sleeping out in the barn for the rest of your life. And I'm adapting, I guess. It was tough at first trying to get everyone situated and also make sure Clint was okay but it's gotten easier. He's learning how to re-do things but some days he just doesn't have the patience for it."

"You gonna stay with him?"

"Of course I'm gonna stay. I love him."


	7. Lost

228 Days AU

\---

A week after Clint and his family returned from Florida (along with Natasha), he stepped through the front door of the new Avengers training facility for the first time in six months. He recognized the newer recruits although since their six months of training was up they would be considered probationary agents; however, at the time he had no reason to learn their names. Since he was returning as a trainer he would at least learn a few of them.

For the first time in possibly _ever_ Stark arrived well before Clint, most likely because Pepper forced him to be early. Clint only met her once or twice and he liked the fact that she could put up with Stark being...Stark, but also because she did so with a sense of humor. One of these days, when Clint was more open about his family, he would have to introduce Laura to Pepper. 

While walking around his tremors were less noticeable. It was only when he stopped and his limbs continued moving that people took to notice. On their trip to Florida the TSA agents initially had him stand in the machine but since he could not hold still long enough for the machine to read him, they switched to a somewhat awkward pat-down. Waiting in line at the gate meant people staring; he was certainly more interesting to look at rather than the flight information board. Most people groaned as soon as they saw Laura carrying Nathaniel but immediately stopped when they noticed Clint's odd gait. The baby actually did fairly well for his first flight, and the only time he became upset was when Laura would not let him have her soda can. Lilah spent both flights next to Natasha so she was a happy girl, while Cooper spent both trips with Clint a few rows up. With two young siblings sometimes Cooper felt somewhat neglected so Clint tried to spend as much one-on-one time with his oldest as he could.

With Christmas out of the way and the start of a new year, Clint was excited to finally get back to work. It was Steve's idea for Clint to come in as a tactician and recruit trainer rather than a sniper. "Everyone can contribute," he said. Laura and Natasha pushed him to go and when Wanda mentioned it would make her happy if Clint went, he was sold. He wanted Wanda to be happy, and it was good to see her slow improvements after losing Pietro. She became more outgoing as time passed and she probably didn't recognize it herself but Clint could tell she had something going for Vision. He might not be able to sit still for more than three seconds but Clint was still an observer. Clint could still watch how the team worked together, call out patterns and vulnerabilities, provide tactics and updates and information.

Along with the newer recruits, Cap brought in someone else entirely who stared at Clint as the entire group of Avengers sat around a conference table (sans Banner). He was a quiet man and hardly said anything as long as Clint had been there and for some time Clint wondered if he could speak at all, at least until Cap spoke to him and the man whispered something back. Maybe he was just a guy that didn't like to socialize; Clint could respect that. It was the metal arm that interested Clint.

Most people arrived the same day as Clint so Cap made an executive decision to put off training until the following day when people were more acclimated to the area and time zone. Tony took that as his cue to order Chinese food and force everyone into awkward conversation with one another. "Alright, my strange and ever growing family, who ordered General Tso? Cap, this one is yours. Widow, here you go. Sam, only one of us to even attempt to eat healthy, good for you. Barton, you bring all your fancy utensils? There's a store right down the road, I'm sure they have sippy-cups if you need one."

Clint smirked at Tony and kicked at a bag underneath his seat. "Nope, I got everything. Although I'd prefer a straw, if that's alright with you."

"Let's see, yup, I got one. Okay, Cap, it's Show and Tell time. Who's your friend?"

Both Cap and the new man stopped shuffling around boxes to look at each other, then to Tony. "This is, uh, this is Bucky," Steve stammered. "He might not be training with us tomorrow, I just wanted to introduce him to everybody."

A chorus of greetings floated around the room, and Bucky barely nodded in return. He obviously did not want to be the center of attention and Clint could see him minutely pull his sleeve further down his metallic arm as if doing so would make himself appear smaller to everyone else. However, Tony being the showman that he was, brought the attention back to himself.

“Legolas, how’s your sly minx of a wife? She ever have the baby hawk?”

“She, _guh_ , she had the baby six months ago—fuck,” Clint whined as his arm jerked and half the rice that was in the white cardboard box went flying across the table and not into the bowl he set up. At home Laura or Cooper helped him with this, or Lilah held onto the bowl to catch whatever he was trying to scoop. Bucky was the first to respond, stretching across the table to hold Clint’s forearm completely still. Clint half expected the robot-like hand to turn the bones in his forearm to dust but apart from being a little cold the hand was actually very gentle. With his arm steady Clint was able to scoop the last of the rice into the bowl with minimal spillage. “Thanks, man,” Clint mumbled as soon as Bucky let go, pulling his sweatshirt sleeve down over his arm. A lock of brown hair fell to the front of his face and he quickly tucked it behind his ear. The action reminded Clint of the way Lilah angrily tugged at one of the bangs on her forehead that was not long enough to keep tied back in either pigtails or a ponytail, which made Clint grin to himself. Bucky sat back against the seat to try and make himself disappear once again. 

“Christ, Barton,” Stark commented over a bite of chicken held by chopsticks. “You’re killing my vibe.”

“I’m sorry my brain damage inconveniences you,” Clint shot back, grinning. Steve’s face went from some kind of… _pride_ towards Bucky to being absolutely mortified at Tony’s comment. 

“Stark, are you _serious _-“__

__“Come on, Cap, he’s playing Connect-the-Dots permanently from now on,” Tony whined through a mouthful of sushi. “Why is everybody acting like it doesn’t exist? Might as well embrace it. We did the same thing to Banner, we all just pretended he couldn’t turn into the Jolly Green Giant at a moment’s notice and look what happened—the guy ran off and no one’s seen him since. Let’s not do that to Birdboy over there.”_ _

__Steve huffed and clacked his teeth together, his jaw becoming taught. Scott and Sam, relatively quiet until then, looked about as out of place as Bucky and Clint wanted to just get up and leave, maybe go find Wanda. She could tell what was going on in his head better than Clint was able to articulate it. Maybe Clint being there was a bad idea, if all they were going to do was fight over him._ _

__\---_ _

__After dinner, Clint went back to his little room in the barracks to lie down. He managed to change into lounge pants without too much difficulty, although he asked for Nat’s help to undo the button on his jeans. That particular pair would unzip on its own if he pulled the side with the button down, so that made undressing less cumbersome since he did not have to actually grab the zipper itself. Lounge pants and sweat pants were his clothing of choice these days, if anything because he had more say in what to wear and was not limited by who would be willing to have their hands near his junk that day._ _

__The barracks were sparse, no bigger than a prison cell but each with its own private bathroom. His bed at home with Laura was pieced together until both were comfortable; the mattress underneath was too firm, so Laura added a thick memory-foam mattress pad while she was pregnant with Lilah to help her back. The first night they slept on it, both Clint and Laura slept so long that Cooper got himself up and toddled into their room wanting to crawl onto the bed with them. Their room had space for not only their bed but also the “sick bed” for when one of the kids was not feeling well and wanted to stay in mommy and daddy’s room. The barracks at the training facility were about the size of Clint’s walk-in closet at home._ _

__He rarely complained, however. Growing up in the circus meant sleeping on the bench seat of a truck or a blanket thrown over a pile of hay at times. The only time he actually slept in a bed for a few hours while in the circus was when he fucked a prostitute one night when he was 17; they were near Las Vegas and nobody gave a shit about his age, but it was the most comfortable few hours of sleep Clint had in years._ _

__When Clint started to doze, a knock on his door made him jerk awake once again. He stood to open the door and fumbled with getting his hand to unclench enough to grasp the doorknob. “Fuck it, come on in, whoever it is.”_ _

__A beat later the doorknob turned slowly and the door inched open, revealing Bucky standing in the hallway outlined in fluorescent light. His long hair fell around the shape of his head, making his face seem much darker. They stared at each other, although every few seconds Bucky moved his mouth as if he wanted to say something. Clint was patient._ _

__“Steve.” That was all Bucky could say, the word cut short by a Russian accent Bucky was yet to shake completely, similar to the way Nat needed a few months before hers disappeared._ _

__“Yeah? What about him?”_ _

__“When he was little. He shook like you do.”_ _

__Clint’s face scrunched as much as it was able. “What do you mean?”_ _

__“No, not little,” Bucky scolded himself, almost as if Clint had not said anything. “Smaller. When Steve was smaller. When he tried to lift heavy things, he would shake. I helped him then.” If there was a point to this, Clint could not figure it out. Bucky seemed to be looking through Clint, trying to drag memories to the front of his brain. “When Zola and Pierce put me in the machine, it made me shake. They would put rubber in my mouth so I would not break my teeth when it happened.”_ _

__They were silent once again, Clint occasionally grunting softly when his neck twitched. Bucky continuously watched Clint’s movements as thought Clint were in the middle of some kind of strange apoplectic dance. He seemed so _small_ to Clint although they were about the same height, and Bucky’s stooped shoulders made him appear even smaller. He was a young man whose youth was erased over and over again and now, nearly 100 years old, was unsure how to live in a world that didn’t know he existed.  
“Is there something you need, man? Need someone to talk to?” Clint opened the door further so Bucky could step inside, although he only took one step inward to hold the door open. Clint turned around to retrieve his phone, tapping it to wake up Friday. “Hey, Friday? Would you message Nat and have her come up to my room, please? Not an emergency, just need her help with something.” The phone chirped in confirmation and les than a minute later a message popped up on the display from Natasha saying she was on her way. Bucky was yet to move from his position at the door._ _

__Once again, Bucky moved his lips as if he wanted to speak but Clint heard nothing. Bucky’s slowly panicking face reminded Clint of some of the animals in the circus who did not like being caged and would become increasingly alarmed when the handlers put them back inside for transport. Before he could say anything, Natasha appeared behind him._ _

__“James,” she said through the doorway. “У тебя всё в порядке?”_ _

__Bucky looked alarmed at hearing his name, the name from his old life, smashed together with the Russian from his new life. He hesitated, unsure how to respond. “Я заблудился…I’m lost.”_ _

__Clint was unsure if Bucky meant literally or figuratively lost. Based on his behavior, probably both._ _

__“Let’s go get some coffee, then. Okay?” Natasha gestured for Bucky to follow her out into the hallway. “Clint, you want anything?”_ _

__“Yeah, bring me back some joe if you don’t mind, I was about to take a nap.” Constantly moving, even though the movements were very slight, made Clint feel exhausted by the end of the day. Natasha nodded and waited for Bucky to stand next to her before they both head toward the kitchen on the lower floor._ _

__Clint nudged the door closed with his foot and dropped back onto the bed, covering his eyes with his arm to block out the light and groaning to himself. “Laura is going to kill me if I bring home another stray.”_ _


	8. Stoned

245 Days AU

\----

Clint woke to tiniest hands slapping him gently in the face. He'd fallen asleep on the couch in the den with Lilah coloring at the coffee table next to him and Cooper reading a book down by his feet. They were having a lazy day although Clint spent half of it annoying his kids. With Cooper he nudged at him with his feet or stuck a toe in the little boy's face, making him groan and swat at Clint's foot with a book. With Lilah he gently tugged at her pigtails until she turned around and blew a raspberry at him. 

Steve sent him home from the training center after Clint started spending most of his time in medical. Not by choice, but because someone had to supervise him while eating, or his meds would need to be checked, or any number of things. The final straw came when Clint tried eating a sandwich that got stuck when he tried to swallow, nearly resulting in medical performing an emergency tracheotomy when the Heimlich didn't work. Luckily one of the nurses was able to use an oddly-shaped pair of medical tweezers to clear his throat. Clint blacked out long before that happened, sometime around the third abdominal thrust from Steve's massive arms. Since the remaining Avengers had to train, and medical couldn't babysit him, Clint packed his bags and left.

He spent a lot of his time napping, at least when Nate was not poking at his face like he did now. Nate wasn't walking yet, but the baby could now crawl and scoot along the floor and pull himself up on unstable chubby legs. And he was so close to finally saying 'dada' that Clint spent a lot of the day trying to get the baby to say it. Nate would be the only kid out of the three to say 'dada' before 'mama' so he was more than a little excited.

"What you doing, Nutter Butter? Daddy was trying to nap, ya know." Clint sat up enough to smooch the baby's forehead as best he could, resulting in Nate falling backward and onto his diapered butt. "Whoops. Sorry, Little Man."

Nate grinned, showing of his newest tooth on his top gum. He was up to four teeth now so most of his diet consisted of Cheerios and bananas. _Datdatdat_ , he squealed and began crawling toward the kitchen, his little palms slapping at the floor. Over the past few weeks the baby's hair darkened slightly but continued to curl to the point that he now had a few deep blond ringlets around his head. 

Laura came into the den from the kitchen and scooped the baby from the floor. "Hey, Trouble, where'd you run off to with Mommy's drying towel?"

"You check inside the Pack'n'Play? He's been throwing things into it. Got Daddy's aim. Right, bud?"

_Datdat_

Laura brushed some of the baby's hair from his forehead. "You wanna rock him? He's way overdue for a nap and he's bound to start getting cranky here in a little bit."

"Sure," Clint nodded. As if on cue the baby yawned and rubbed his eye with a balled fist, though his semi-toothless grin never faltered. Clint couldn't actually rock him in the proper sense; instead he "wore" the baby in something like a front-worn sling. He had to sit in the rocking chair while holding Nate but compared to four months ago when Clint couldn't hold his son at all, Clint would sit in dirt if it meant holding his baby boy.

Laura set the baby down for a moment to help Clint into the sling. It was awkward at first, and it took a few times before Nate was used to sleeping in the wrap, but with practice Nate figured out what Clint wanted him to do. Now Nate would fall asleep within only a few minutes. With the wrap secure, Laura picked up the baby once again and set him in the wrap, helping Clint back up into the rocking chair. "You got him? Nap time, baby boy."

Although the wrap did most of the work, Clint still keep his arms positioned as if he was actually holding Nate. "Do those fingers taste good, Nutter Butter?" Clint whispered against the baby's ear. Nathaniel took his slobbery fingers from his mouth and held them up to share with his daddy. "Shhhh, it's nap time now, baby."

Clint rocked slowly since the tremors in his shoulders and arms was rhythmic enough that it actually helped Nate fall asleep. He could still hum, even though Clint's ability to sing was closer to Kermit croaking. Nate laid his head against Clint's chest and continued to suck on his fingers, his eyes drooping then snapping open once again when he realized he was dozing. Clint also closed his eyes and yawned.

Until a clap of thunder exploded outside the house, rattling the walls and immediately waking the baby once again. 

Laura darted into the room just as Nate's face scrunched and he let out a whine at being woken so suddenly. Upstairs Clint could hear both kids scrambling down the hallway and down the steps, Lilah screaming for daddy as she went. As soon as Laura had Nate tugged free from the sling, Lilah and her tear-streaked face slammed into Clint. Cooper stood in front of the small window next to the main door.

"Shhh, Daddy's here, baby girl," Clint soothed. "I know, that was scary, shhhh." 

"Hey dad, someone is here," Cooper called down the hallway. Immediately Clint stood and passed Lilah off to her mom.

"Get behind me, Coop." Clint stood behind the door and leaned outward to look out onto the front porch, but his vision was obscured by a dark figure.

"BARTON, IT IS I."

Groaning, Clint tapped his head against the door. "It's okay, Coop, you can open it." Cooper tugged the door open and slowly dropped his head back to look up at Thor's extensive height. 

Laura inched her way down the hall with Lilah still wrapped around her waist like a small pigtailed octopus. Nathaniel still pouted, his head against Laura's neck. "Who is it, Clint?"

"It's alrighty, honey, it's just Thor."

"Well, tell Just-Thor he woke up the baby and scared your daughter so I'm pissed at him."

Thor shifted from his spot on the porch, his cape shifting somewhat. "My apologies, Lady Barton. I did not mean to frighten anyone."

Behind Thor, the front lawn smoked from the charred imprint left in the grass from the Bifrost. Clint would have to figure out a way to cover the strange circle before a random neighbor happened upon it. Laura waved him inside. "You might as well come inside, Nate's not going back to sleep any time soon."

Clint moved back inside to allow Thor and his giant shoulders through the doorway. Cooper stood stock still, staring up at Thor with wide eyes. They'd met before but Thor left before Cooper could speak to him. Now, seeing Thor so close was somewhat intimidating.

"Barton, what is the purpose of this sash that you wear?"

"Huh? Oh, it helps me rock the baby that you woke up." Clint grinned as his shoulder spasmed hard enough to make his hand jab him in the hip somewhat. "Have a seat, Thor. Everything alright?"

Thor lumbered into the den and set Mjölnir on the floor in front of him. Clint tried to lift Mjölnir on more than one occasion just to see what would happen but he was yet to figure out how only Thor was able to lift it. "Aye, I would like to speak with you about something. I've spoken with the healers in Asgard and they would like to examine you."

Clint dropped back into the rocking chair and motioned for Cooper to help him out of the sling. His right hand was curled into his palm almost continuously now so grasping at anything was difficult. "So what, you want me to just pack up and leave for another dimension with you?"

The sarcasm was lost on Thor. "Aye."

Clint chuckled and rubbed his eye with the back of his hand. As he did so, Nathaniel scuttled his way into the living room and stopped at Clint, holding on to the leg of Clint's pants in trepidation of someone so large being in the vicinity. "Hi, baby boy. It's okay, it's just Thor."

"The youngest Bartonson is growing mightily," Thor remarked. Laura practically stomped through the den, her annoyance with Thor waking up her son and scaring her daughter all too apparent.

"That better not be your way of calling my baby fat; Nat already calls him fat enough as it is," she growled at him.

"No, Lady Barton, I mean no disrespect. He is much grown since Barton showed me an image of him last." Lilah, who had followed behind her mother, grew somewhat bold and crawled onto the end of the couch next to Thor. "The young Lady Barton also grows remarkably." She smiled at Thor widely, showing off the gap from where she lost a tooth a week ago. The Tooth Fairy left her five dollars that night, which Lilah put in a jar so she could save up for a doll she wanted. 

Cooper sat on the footrest of the rocking chair in front of Clint. Ever since Clint was diagnosed, Cooper worked on being more mature to help his dad. There were moments when he did something childish, but he was only ten so Cooper gave himself some slack. 

Since his brother and sister seemed okay around the large stranger, Nathaniel crawled over to the couch and say in front of Thor. The pieces of armor Thor wore looked shiny, which attracted Nate's attention until he noticed Mjölnir next to the couch. He scoot along the couch until he could grab Mjölnir's handle and drag the hammer towards himself. With the handle closer Nate was able to chew on the wrist strap. 

Clint watched his youngest, expecting the hammer to be completely inert. However, as soon as he watched Mjölnir inch across the floor he practically jumped out of the rocking chair.

"What the fuck?! Did you _see_ that?"

Hearing her husband shout, Laura dashed back into the den. "Clint? What is it?"

"Nate moved the hammer!"

"Hmm?"

Clint practically vibrated with excitement, the tremors in his shoulders and torso growing more pronounced. "The hammer, whatever it's called, no one can lift it and Nate pulled it."

Thor beamed at Clint and Laura, patting the top of Nate's head. The baby looked up for a moment with the strap still in his mouth. "I'm afraid he did not lift Mjölnir, my friend. However, Mjölnir recognizes the innocence of children and reacts accordingly. The young Bartonson can push and drag Mjölnir, but Mjölnir will not hurt him and cannot be used to hurt others. The Allfather has often told me that as a child I used Mjölnir for play, almost like a toy. It seems that is what Mjölnir is doing for your son now." 

Lilah slid from the couch and sat next to Nate on the floor, pulling on Mjölnir's handle. The hammer rocked back and forth but remained upright. Nate found this to be absolutely hilarious and his giggle echoed throughout the room. She pulled Mjölnir's handle towards her and let go to it would snap upright once again, making Nate laugh even harder. Thor looked exceedingly proud of them both. 

"Now, Barton, what would you need to journey to Asgard?"

Clint kept his eyes on his children playing with the magic hammer. "Thor, I can't just leave my family to go dimension-hopping."

Thor did not seem fazed at all. "That's alright, my friend. The healers have provided me with an alternative. It would not be as thorough as seeing the healers in person, but with your permission the Norn stones can absorb the details of your ailment so the healers may learn the cause."

Clint paused as best he could. "They can fix me?"

"We shall see. Asgardian healers have millennia of knowledge but occasionally Midgardian ailments vex them."

At their feet, the kids continued playing with Mjölnir, seemingly oblivious to what Thor just said. Clint, however, had to sit back down. The shock of the possibility of a cure took the wind out of him. "They can fix me."

"If you'll allow me, Hawkeye, I must place the Norn stone on your head for some time so it may absorb your energies."

"What's going to happen? What will the stones do?"

"Since the stones are absorbing energy, you may tire quite easily for the next few days. Your strength should be normal by the time I return."

Clint hardly needed to think about it. "Do whatever you need to do, Big Guy."

Thor nodded and reached into a pouch along his belt. "Do you have a place in which you can lay prone?"

"Sure, come on upstairs." He lead Thor up the steps slowly, passing Laura on the way down. Unlike the rest of the Avengers, Thor was the only one not to see the interior of the house. Every few feet the large man stopped to look at a picture hanging on the wall or to fiddle with an object that snagged his interest. It reminded Clint of his children.

Thor followed Clint into the bedroom and stretched himself across the bed. If Tony were here he'd make some innuendo about Thor and Clint being in bed together of some other ridiculous pun. "So I just lay here?"

"Aye. The Norn stone may change in temperature but do not be alarmed." With Clint relaxed on the bed, Thor placed the small smooth black stone against Clint's forehead. Initially he let go of the stone but when Clint convulsed accidentally the stone fell off. Thor then held the stone in place and began muttering in a language that Clint did not understand, most likely ancient Norse.

"If you wish, Barton, you may sleep if that will make you more comfortable."

Thor didn't have to tell Clint twice.


	9. Sockets

251 Days AU

\----

Thor returned to the farm from Asgard less than a week later, a day after the other Avengers arrived to visit.

It was Steve's idea to visit, though Clint suspected it was primarily out of guilt for asking Clint to consider going back home. Since it was closing in on Valentine's Day, Laura decided to cook and the kids wanted to make Vakentine's cards for the other Avengers. Well, Lilah did; Cooper thought the holiday was girly and he did _not_ have a crush on a girl in his class because according to him, girls were gross. Except Auntie Nat.

The entire week Clint bit his nails and moped around with nerves waiting for Thor to return. He wavered between hopeful enthusiasm that the Asgardian healers would find a cure and cynicism that he'd be stuck in his twitching body for the rest of his life. Despite appearing positive and laughing as he rolled around with his children on the floor, there were nights that he lay in bed with Laura nestled in his shoulder wondering if it'd be better for everyone if he just put a bullet through his brain. Actually he probably wouldn't be able to uncurl his fingers enough to pull the trigger. Hang himself, maybe. Down his entire bottle of meds that were doing jack shit to help him. 

But then he would wake up in the morning and look at the smiling face of his baby who was so happy to see his daddy, wondering how he could even think of killing himself. Clint wanted to be there for the day they dropped Nate off at kindergarten, then Cooper off to his first day of high school. One day he'd walk with Lilah down the aisle at her wedding. Clint just had to keep going, doing whatever he needed to do.

He suspected that Laura knew how he felt, or Nat recognized his feelings and told her. For the weeks following the Chitauri attack Clint was hardly more than a shell, going through the motions of taking care of the farm. He wasn't in the mood to do much of anything beyond what was required of him, and any time he tried being intimate with Laura he wondered how much Loki knew about her and would lose focus. Clint would wake up in the middle of the night wondering if he should pack up the kids and take them somewhere, a place he'd never been so Loki couldn't find them. The thought of Loki hurting his babies made Clint physically sick at times, and if he wasn't sweating through the sheets he was puking his guts out. Nat called him the moment Thor appeared with the news that Loki died, and Clint was so relieved he nearly bawled. For the first time in months he was able to focus and not spend the day worrying about his children. Nate was actually the result of that night, the night he was able to make love to his wife and actually be mentally present for the first time in ages.

They were cleaning up the kitchen when Thor returned. Clint tried to help, the most he could do was shove a wet rag around the counter after Laura uncurled his hand enough to jam the rag in his fingers. If she was the one to unroll his fingers, they moved fairly easily and she could massage his palms. Clint just wasn't able to do it on his own and the more he tried the more his hand jerked and spasmed. His right hand stayed open but during a storm his fingers would splay out in strange angles. Laura had to help him wash his left hand at times when his limbs simply wouldn't cooperate.

Being the Boy Scout that he was, Steve volunteered to do the dishes while Natasha swept the floor. Lilah gave all her attention to coloring with Wanda at the kitchen table, at least until Tony and Vision arrived. Then the little girl was ensnared with the "pretty purple man." Cooper was somewhat suspicious of Vision at first, at least until Vision showed interest in Kermit and his tank in the den. From then on Cooper might as well have tied himself to the android.

Oddly enough, Nathaniel was interested in the one individual who wanted nothing to do with him. Tony tried everything he could think of to get Nathaniel away from him; he tried throwing a toy into the other room but the baby would slap his way across the floor and bring the toy back. Anything Tony tried the baby would think they were playing a game and giggle away at Tony's antics. Less than an hour after arriving at the farm, Tony's ridiculously expensive jeans were covered in drool.

Sam stayed behind with Bucky at the training compound, and Scott went home to be with his girlfriend and his daughter for the weekend. It was almost like they had the whole gang back together, save for Vision replacing Banner (which was not much a replacement, honestly; both were science nerds who rarely understood sarcasm but could easily dish it out). Laura was interested in the three people she was yet to meet and asked Steve questions while she nursed the baby in the kitchen to purposefully embarrass the captain.

"How's your friend settling in, Steve?"

Steve absolutely refused to turn around and face her, even though he'd seen plenty of women breastfeed when he was younger and bottles were scarce. But the woman in question was the wife of Cap's teammate so he felt like he would be prying in some way but he also did not feel right asking her to do anything different since technically _he_ was in _her_ home. "Bucky? He's adjusting a little better than I did, I think. HYDRA woke him up every few years so he's more acclimated to technology than I was. Sometimes he spaces out, though."

Finished with sweeping the floor, Natasha tucked the broom into the pantry. Something was going on between Nat and Bucky, and Laura could see the way Natasha blushed whenever Bucky's name was mentioned. She did the same thing with Banner when he was still around, and Laura was somewhat happy to see her moving on after Banner took off. From what Clint told her about Bucky, however, Laura was also concerned that Nat was getting involved with a dangerous man. As if their lives weren't dangerous enough.

"He's in good hands, I'm sure he'll be okay," Laura said while shifting the baby around. "Ouch, Nate, not so hard." Since Nate was mobile now, Laura pumped for him multiple times per day but in the course of cooking and arguing with the older kids to help clean the house she completely forgot. She nursed him infrequently now, usually at night to get him to fall asleep. Natasha stroked the top of Nate's head and straightened out a few of his blond curls.

"You sure he needs to eat anymore? He's already chunky enough as it is." She grinned at Nate following her with his eyes, chirping away as he ate. The noise was obviously making Steve uncomfortable, and any happy grunt Nate made caused Steve to study the dish he'd been washing for the past five minutes even harder. 

"Nate's my little piglet," replied Laura. "He eats just about everything except for carrots. Right, baby boy? You get that from daddy, don't you?"

Clint stopped scrubbing and turned so his back was against the counter. "What can I say? He's a boob man, I taught him well. Also, I think we're about to give Steve an aneurysm."

Steve chuckled at the sink and moved to dry off the plate. "I'm sorry, ma'am, I-"

"Oh don't you _ma'am_ me. Cooper does that when he wants something."

Before Steve could respond, an echoing _boom_ shook the walls of the house. Nate immediately began to wail while Clint cursed about just yesterday getting the scorch marks cleared from the grass left by Thor a week prior. Natasha took the baby so Laura could get dressed just as Wanda walked into the kitchen carrying Lilah. The little girl was not crying like last week but still looked visibly shaken, although Wanda was probably giving off some kind of soothing aura that helped Lilah feel better. Cooper darted into the kitchen to his father. "Dad, Mr. Thor ruined the lawn again!"

"I know he did, and he's going to fix it this time," Clint replied while trying not to be angry. Emotional upheaval made his tremors worse and at times if Clint was worked up enough it led to a storm. His teammates had seen enough of them not to get freaked out but that didn't help the embarrassment Clint felt at having less control over his own body than his infant son. Fat tears ran down the baby's face from being scared so suddenly and he held on to Natasha's shirt until his tiny knuckles turned white. 

"Shhhhhh, все хорошо, мой любимый," Nat whispered against Nate's head. She usually spoke Russian to the kids, although Clint never heard any of the older kids respond in Russian. They understood a few basic phrases from what Clint could gather--they would respond in English--but since Clint rarely said anything in another language around them they did not have many opportunities to practice. 

Thor appeared in the doorway of the kitchen holding a large leather sack, Vision and Tony standing awkwardly behind him. Nate immediately hushed as soon as he saw Thor's giant frame in the doorway, hesitated just a moment, then stretched out his arms for Thor to hold him. Even though Nathaniel was almost toddler-sized now, Thor absolutely _dwarfed_ him with his giant arms. "The youngest Bartonson appears to enjoy my company!"

"He likes your beard, and you're fixing our lawn," Laura snapped back. As if on cue Nate reached up to tug at Thor's facial hair with interest. Maybe the only reason Nate liked Tony so much was because of the facial hair. It was anybody's guess.

"My apologies, Lady Barton, I will correct the imprint. But first, if you do not mind, I wish to speak to Agent Barton." Everyone took that as their cue to leave the kitchen; Laura plucked the baby from Thor's arms and the entire group moved back into the den so Lilah could give everyone the Valentine's cards she made. Clint dropped himself into a chair and tried to steady himself as much as he was able.

"Please tell me you've brought good news, Thor."

Thor pulled out a kitchen chair and sat across from Clint, his eyes fixed on the leather bag. "Indeed, I spoke with the healers," Thor began after a deep breath. "They were unable to devise a cure for your ailment."

Clint momentarily stopped breathing. If _gods_ couldn't fix him, then he was well and truly fucked. He would be stuck in this deteriorating body forever.

Thor continued unabated. "However, they were able to find the cause. The time you spent under Loki's control caused the damage in your brain that affects your limbs, although why there was such a gap between when Loki controlled you and when the ailment began, the healers were unable to determine. My father begs your forgiveness for what Loki did to you, and what he continues to do indirectly." Thor set the leather bag at Clint's feet. "The Allfather sends this as an offering."

The bag was travel-worn and cracking in spots, and most likely was centuries old if Clint had to guess. He stared at the bag for a moment and the way it was tied in a cinch at the top, trying to tug the knot lose with the one hand that would somewhat cooperate. "I can't open it."

"May I?" Thor tugged on the string and pulled apart the bag to reveal a large golden helmet with two long horns jutting from the front. Clint recognized it immediately as Loki's helmet, the same helmet he wore during the Chitauri invasion. "Odin wished to say that the helmet alone would never be sufficient to alleviate the pain that Loki caused. My family is indebted to you, my friend. Please, do with the helmet as you wish."

Clint held onto the helmet by a crooked horn and turned it over, noting the scratches and dents that marred the surface. In truth he wanted to throw the damn thing, stomp on it, melt the fucking thing down and use it to fix the toilet upstairs that constantly ran. He had a better idea, though.

 _I want to shoot it._  
\-----

Twenty minutes later, on the front lawn with melting snow making the ground muddy, Clint stood with his bow for the first time in nearly eight months. On the stump in the middle of the lawn sat the helmet, its gold muted due to the overcast sky. Wanda stood with the rest of the group on the porch, her hands faintly glowing with red energy that she used to stabilize Clint's brain long enough for him to shoot. Since so much was involved in the coordination of firing a bow, she would only be able to help him hold the position for a very short amount of time.

Cooper helped him nock an arrow and when the little boy passed the bow back to his father, Clint hugged it to his chest the same way Lilah hugged some of her dolls. The bow was an extension of Clint's arm, and he realized that over the past eight months the restlessness and irritation he felt was merely phantom pain from his arm being incomplete. And he wanted to savor the feeling of being able to handle his bow again, but he knew that his time was limited.

He lifted the bow, taking a deep breath as he did and drawing back. Even after eight months, the move was as natural and smooth as breathing. He aimed down the shaft of the arrow and lined the shot with exactly where he wanted the arrow to land and barely nudged his fingers to let the string go. The arrow was nothing more than a barely-visible blur as it zipped across the lawn and embedded itself into the helmet.

Exactly where Loki's eye socket would be.


	10. Lovable Charm

287 Days AU  
\----

With the older kids back in school, the house was relatively quiet save for the baby babbling. Laura spent much of her time working out of her office since Clint was usually home and could be with the baby; she didn't _need_ to work, Clint was still being paid under SHIELD's insurance, but Laura also liked to help provide for her family. Nate was a summer baby and the older kids were home while he was still a newborn so Laura couldn't get as much work done as she would have liked. Now she could work a solid number of hours with occasional breaks in between. When Cooper was born she tried going back to work after her maternity leave was up but the entire day she spent thinking about her baby and worrying over him. She cut her hours back willingly, and quit entirely when she was pregnant with Lilah. Her babies were her first priority, but when Lilah started kindergarten Laura started working part time once again as a medical consultant. Nathaniel was unexpected (Clint told the older kids the baby's name was going to be "Whoops") but Laura worked when she could. Since Clint was home all the time, and Nate was mobile, Laura was happy to feel like she was providing financially.

Wanda was an enormous help whenever she visited, about once a month or so. She spoke Sokovian around the baby, and Clint was absolutely okay with that. Even if she never said so, Clint could tell Wanda wanted to give Nate something of her brother's to carry on other than his name. The Bartons informally adopted her, gave her a key to the house, and let her set up one of the guest rooms as she wanted. Nathaniel could almost say her name, although the closest he could get was "Wa-da."

Her English improved in the last nine months, and Clint was teaching her to drive since her family never owned a car. Their neighborhood in Sokovian was small enough that they could walk most places so Mama and Papa never bought a car. In hindsight, the SUV was probably not the best car to start with since she managed to run into a hay bale once and got it stuck in the mud another time, but Wanda was a fast learner. What she couldn't control physically she could use her powers as necessary to stop the car or move something out of the way. And Clint was a patient teacher; if he could teach newbies to fly a quinjet he could teach someone how to drive.

Nate was running a fever today, a very low-grade fever caused by new teeth, so he was somewhat clingy and wanted attention all morning. Wanda helped soothe his gums when she could but there was simply no way she could keep her attention on the baby in that capacity for so long. Instead she tried distracting him by dancing with him or helping him walk on his fat little legs. If he held on to the couch or some other stable object Nate could shuffle along while holding it but Clint liked whenever Wanda helped; the little guy's face was so concentrated trying to coordinate his legs but he sometimes looked up to his daddy for approval. With Laura working, Wanda kept the baby occupied while Clint sorted laundry as best he could. Nate was actually a bigger problem than Clint's tremors; whenever Clint was finished with a basket Nate crawled over and dumped it out.

"Nathaniel Pietro, if you even dare touch that basket I'm giving you to Tony Stark," Clint warned with a stack of dish towels balanced on his lap. Nate looked up at Clint with big blue eyes and then into the contents of the basket. 

"Datda?" Tentatively Nate reached into the basket and pulled out one of Lilah's shirts. Clint tossed the dish towel at him and it swatted the baby's face. Nate's face lit up and he grinned.

"What did I just say, you little nerd?" 

Nate giggled and tossed the shirt behind him. "Datda!" He was getting to the age where he began babbling in what sounded like sentences but no discernible words yet. "Wa-da?"

"She's upstairs taking a bath, bud. Which you are getting later tonight, now that I think about it. Nate, I said leave that alone." Nathaniel completely ignored his father and turned over the basket, spilling the contents into the floor, chirping in satisfaction. Lilah used the basket in question to pull Nate around the floor like a sled since he was too big for her to carry. "Nate, seriously, cut that out. Nathaniel, what did I just say?"

Hearing Clint's frustration, Laura rolled her chair out from her desk to see what was going on. "Everything okay, honey?"

"Yeah, Nate's just being a little smart-ass," Clint sighed as he turned over the laundry basket and began re-sorting things. "Will you come get him? This is the third time I've gone through this basket."

"I will when I'm done wth this," Laura called back. "Also Wanda will be out of the shower in just a minute." She turned back to her computer and clacked away, just as Nate crawled over to the gate separating him from the kitchen. 

"Nutter Butter," warned Clint. "You stay off that gate. Hey, look at daddy. I said no." He tried to stand up so he could block the baby from the gate but his foot was not cooperating. "Laura, I can't-"

Clint couldn't finish. Instead a loud crash echoed throughout the den as Nate tried to use the gate to stand, bringing the entire thing down on him. It was extremely light and made of plastic so it only bounced off him, but the loud noise and falling backward shook him. He started crying as soon as Laura ran into the room.

"What happened? Clint, why was the gate even loose?" She rushed over to her baby and nabbed him from the floor, holding his head against her cheek and bouncing. "Oh, sweetheart, you're okay, shhh."

Nate continued to wail despite a lack of visible bump or bruise. _Muhmuh,_ he bawled while simultaneously trying to chew on his fingers. They tried pacifiers and chew toys and teething rings, but for some reason Nate always reverted back to his fingers for comfort. 

"Clint, why didn't you stop him? And why wasn't the gate latched?"

Clint tried to make his limbs cooperate so he could stand, or even just slow the rate of spasms, but worrying about the baby made him twitch that much harder. "I asked Wanda to leave it like that, I can't get the latch open."

"And you couldn't just stand up and redirect him?"

"No, I tried calling you-"

He was cut off by the phone ringing, though nobody moved to answer it. Laura continued to try and shush the baby until the phone went to voicemail so they could both just listen to whoever it was and call back.

_Hi, Mrs. Barton, this is Wendy from Dr. Milton's office. She just wanted to let you know that she will be late to the office today and would like to push your appointment back to 1:30 of that is alright. If not, just give me a call back and I can get you rescheduled. Have a great day, bye._

Clint ran through the list of doctors his family saw; the kids saw Dr. Hanley as their pediatrician, Laura's general practitioner was Dr. Brigands. Milton didn't seem familiar.

"Who is Dr. Milton?"

Laura brushed the comment away. "He's just a doctor, don't worry about it."

"Wait, isn't Milton the shrink in town?" She didn't respond immediately. "Laura."

"Yes, he's a therapist," she whispered against Nate's forehead. He'd quieted into minute whimpers instead of openly screaming. Clint's face warped into confusion.

"When did you start seeing a shrink?"

"Look, can we just drop it-"

"No, Laura, I want to know."

She chewed on her lip momentarily. "About three months ago."

Clint shoved the stack of dish rags from his lap and stood, unsure what emotion he was feeling exactly. He was angry, sure, but he was also hurt.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"You were just starting to go back to work and I didn't want you to worry, it throws you off when you worry."

He nudged a laundry basket out of his way, a little more forcefully than he wanted. "Thrown off any more than I already am? Look at me, Laura, I can't even write my own name, for God's sakes."

Laura walked over to the Pack'n'Play and set Nate down in the bottom with a few toys to keep him occupied. He immediately stood once again and stretched his arms out to be held. "I know, honey, I just--I needed to talk to _somebody_. You have Natasha, and she worries about you enough as it is without me adding to it."

"Why couldn't you just talk to me?"

"Because _you're_ the problem, Clint!"

That shut him up instantly. He snapped his jaw shut so quickly his teeth clacked together. "Wha.."

Laura walked quickly out to the front porch to keep their argument away from the baby. They'd fought before, especially when they were first married (and before Clint figured that when he was home, Laura was the commanding officer), but they tried to keep their arguments out of earshot of the kids. Outside she wrapped her arms across her chest from the chilly air that still lingered in the shade.

"Honey, you know I'm proud of you, for everything. But the stress of worrying over you and the kids, I just get burned out sometimes." She looked into his eyes, or what she could before he twitched and looked away again.

Clint's face was stoic, showing as little emotion as he could. "I didn't know you were unhappy."

"Oh, sweetly, I'm not unhappy," she sighed, taking Clint's face in her hands. "I'm not. I swear to you, I'm not unhappy. But it's _so much_ , sometimes. They still show Ultron footage on the news, and they even go as far back as Loki. I worry about what that means for our kids, honey. Lilah doesn't remember Loki but Cooper does. And both of them remember Ultron. They both still affect us; I mean, Loki damaged your brain, Clint."

"I know-"

"Wait, just hear me out. Sometimes I just need someone _not_ connected to is to talk to. Everyone we know just reminds me of what happened. It's a lot of work trying to run everything, and you four are my entire world, but sometimes I just need to step away from everything."

She wiped tears from her eyes before they had a chance to fall. Clint hated when his wife cried, for whatever the reason. Once when Cooper was still just a toddler he saw and ophthalmologist who had to pry his eyes open to examine them, which caused Cooper to scream himself hoarse. Laura got so upset she cried, which in turn tortured Clint. He pulled her into his chest and wrapped his arms around her shoulders.

"Hey, come on," he soothed. "I'm not mad, honey, it just caught me off guard, okay? Look, if you need to see this guy twice a day for the next twenty years, I'm okay with it. You know I just want you to be happy and if that means seeing this Milton Bradley guy then so be it."

Laura giggled and sniffled into his shoulder. "You're such a dork."

"I know, one of my many lovable charms." They stood wrapped around one another on the porch, Laura inhaling Clint's scent of grass and aftershave. "I love you, Mrs. Barton."

"I love you, Mr. Barton. And all your lovable charms-"

Laura stopped when the screen door screetched open to reveal Wanda holding Nathaniel on her hip and the cordless phone in her hand, her chocolate-brown hair damp from the shower.

"Clint, is your neurologist. He say there is a treatment to try and if it works, you won't have the tremors any more."


	11. Deep Brain Stimulation

302 Days AU

\---

Laura, and most of SHIELD, would agree that Clint Barton was the worst patient in existence. He whined and didn't follow the doctor's instructions, got out of bed when he shouldn't, attempted to escape more times than Laura could count. Today, however, was the possibly the only day in her relationship with her husband that Clint followed the doctors and nurses to the letter.

He still whined and complained the entire time, of course, but it was half-hearted and stemmed from nerves. Clint hated surgeries and the down time that came after, but he also realized that the last ten months had been nothing but down time. If what the doc said was true, he could be better in as little as two weeks. Clint could be patient for that.

They were currently waiting for the neurosurgeon and the anesthesiologist to arrive and go over some last minute paperwork and instructions. Lilah and Cooper were in Iowa (Laura flew her parents out to watch the kids for the time being) but they had to bring the baby since he still nursed occasionally. Nate was hamming it up for the nurses who dropped by to check Clint's vitals and smiled or cooed at anyone who showed him attention. It made Clint less anxious to watch his son play with toys on the bed or scoot around the floor, as if there was some kind of normalcy to what was happening today. 

A nurse came in to shave his head about twenty minutes before his scheduled start time. Clint always thought he looked ridiculous bald, and Nate was completely confused when the nurse stepped away. Laura stood to kiss the top of Clint's head and when she did so Nate slapped at Clint's skull as if that would make his hair grow back. "Give daddy a smooch right there," Laura said while tapping a spot on Clint's skull. Nate leaned forward and basically licked Clint's head while making a _mwah_ sound. Kisses were definitely something they needed to work on with him.

As soon as the neurologist and anesthesiologist stepped in Clint's anxiety sky-rocketed. He'd had surgery on his head before, but he was asleep during that time.

Today, he would be awake during the entire procedure.

"Alright, Agent Barton, the theater is prepped and ready for you." Dr. Dhankhar, the neurosurgeon, was a short man with gray hair peppering his temples. Clint liked listening to his accent. "What we will do now is place the stereotactic frame that will keep your head still during the surgery. To do that Dr. Allen will administer shots of anesthetic at various points on your head and we will place the screws. You may feel some pressure but you should not feel discomfort. And your family can stay here with you."

While Dr. Allen prepped the syringes and antiseptic, Laura stood next to the bed to kiss him one last time before she could no longer do so due to sterilization. The surgery could take anywhere from two to seven hours so she wanted to be next to him as long as she could.

Doctor Allen began wiping Clint's head down with antiseptic. "You're more than welcome to sit with Agent Barton while we place the frame, Mrs. Barton." With his head wiped down, Dr. Dhankhar held up a scan of Clint's MRI for reference and marked spots on his skull with a felt-tip marker. Dr. Allen then held up a thin syringe with clear liquid. "Okay, here we go. Just a few pinches here and there."

Needles never bothered Clint; enough circus performers did heroine around him growing up that needles were easy enough to deal with. The pinches he get were similar to someone tugging a strand of hair out of his scalp, and Dr. Allen was done in roughly a minute. "Can you feel that, Agent Barton?"

"Feel what?"

Doctor Allen laughed. "Good, you are ready for the screws. He's all yours for now, Sadish."

The next part felt entirely weird. Clint could definitely feel the pressure of something being wrenched into his scalp but there was no pain. Instead there was just some tugging and pulling on the top of his head. After five minutes of the sensation, Dr. Dhankhar stepped back to his mobile cart and uncovered what looked like pieces of a metallic puzzle. "Once the rods are secured you will be ready for surgery, Agent Barton."

Setting up the rods only took a few moments and when Dr. Dhankhar stepped back once again, Laura actually laughed. "Oh my God, you look like you belong in that _Mad Max_ movie."

"What? Let me see." She took out her phone and opened up the camera app, tapping the front-facing camera so Clint could look at himself. Laura was right, he looked like something out of a science fiction movie. A horizontal bar stretched across his nose, with thicker bars vertically at his temples. Clint grinned at the image and snapped a quick picture to show the kids when they got home. "What do you think, Nutter Butters?"

Nathaniel looked somewhat uncomfortable at the thing on his daddy's head. He reached out to try and touch whatever it was but Laura pulled chubby hand away. "No no, baby. Don't touch."

"No datda?" That was Nathaniel's newest word that he picked up, making his entire vocabulary a whopping twenty words.

"Daddy's going to see the doctor for a while," Laura muttered to the baby. "When he comes back daddy is going to take a nap." She reached across the bed for Clint's hand, the curled one, and kissed his knuckles as nurses unlocked the bed to wheel him to the surgery theater. "I love you, honey."

"I love you, baby." Clint stretched out his arm so he could rub Nathaniel's cheek. "Be good for mommy, Little Man. And tell the kids I said I love them for me."

Laura stayed in the room as the nurses pushed him out into the hallway, a third also pushing his IV stand. A Foley catheter was placed in the back of his left hand, one that would keep the IV drip going but had a port jutting off to the side so they could add medicine and anesthesia. In the theater, more nurses milled about with surgery checklists, going over final instrument checks and making sure everything was in its place. With Clint set in the middle of the room, Dr. Allen appeared in front of his face.

"Hello again, Agent Barton. What I'm going to do now is give you an anesthetic that will make you feel slow and sluggish, but will not put you to sleep. Then Dr. Dhankhar is going to attach the frame to an arc that will keep your head completely still. Good to go?"

Clint gave him a thumb up and watched as Dr. Allen attached a syringe filled with murky white liquid into the catheter on his hand. At first nothing happened, then he felt something creeping along his veins that slowed everything down. It felt like Dr. Allen injected him with fog. "This feels weird," he slurred.

"It takes a few minutes to get used to. Now we need you to hold still until the arc is placed, alright?"

"You got it, doc."

Nurses strapped his forearms and lower legs to the bed, while two others on either side kept his head locked into place. Clint was hardly anything more than a breathing rag doll as they screwed in another piece to the frame at the top of his head out of Clint's available field of vision. He could feel the pressure of someone manipulating the top of his head but he could not feel any pain at all. Once the last of the frame was set, a nurse stuck the two nubs of a cannula in his nose and taped the tube to the sides of his face.

Doctor Dhankhar stood in front of Clint and gave him some last minute information. "Okay, Agent Barton, we are going to begin in just a moment. The nurses are going to ask you to do some very basic things throughout the surgery--counting, reciting the alphabet, things of that nature--to keep you awake. I will keep you updated throughout, alright? Are you ready?"

"As I'll ever be, Doc."

"Good. Then let's get started."

There wasn't much for Clint to do while they began working behind his head. He had to be patient (and behave), and he tried not to think about the fact that someone was cutting into his scalp.

"The first incision has been made, Agent Barton. I'm going to start drilling, and when I'm done the nurses as going to start working with you on keeping you awake."

The sound of a drill startled Clint, though the reflex was completely suppressed due to the anesthesia. He could feel the Doctor pressing something against his head, could hear the grinding as the drill bored through his skull. If he wasn't medicated out of his fucking mind the sound would've made him vomit.

"You're doing great, Agent Barton. We are placing the plastic rim now, and then we will insert the probe." Doctor Dhankhar spoke as if this was just another routine surgery for him.

A nurse took his hand into her own to get his attention. In her other hand she held a clip board with a list of things for Clint to do to keep him somewhat alert. "Agent Barton, would you mind wiggling your fingers for me? Good, how about your toes? Great job. Next, will you spell your name for me? Doesn't have to be fast."

Clint labored through his name; even though his brain knew the letters, his mouth was on vacation so there was a delay between letters. "C...L...I...N....T...B...A...R...T...O...N...Strike Team Delta....37...836...925."

The nurses eyebrows furrowed. "What does the rest mean?"

"Name...rank...service number," Clint grinned, somewhat lopsided and loopy. The nurse and Dr. Dhankhar laughed.

"I'm glad that your humor is still available, Agent Barton."

"You...bet, doc."

"The rim is placed. The next part of the procedure is arguably the longest. At times I am going to ask you to move or speak, and others I will need you to remain absolutely still, no talking or anything. Do you understand, Agent Barton?"

"Is...a talk...moment?"

Doctor Dhankhar chuckled once again, and the nurse squeezed Clint's hand. "Yes, it is a talking moment."

"Go 'head, doc."

For the next three hours, Dr. Dhankhar alternated between having Clint do easy mental tasks such as answering basic math problems or reciting the alphabet, and absolute silence. During the silent times, everyone watched a screen full of lines measuring his brain waves and listening to the audio as Dr. Dhankhar probed Clint's brain for the misfiring neurons. They had an idea of where the problem area was (deep in the center of his brain) but moving micrometers in any given direction made the probe go from flat and quiet to erratic and screaming. At times the Doctor stopped so a nurse could wipe the sweat from his face or to drink from a juice box. The nurses took shifts keeping Clint alert and focused, and Clint was starting to get exceedingly bored until the Doctor finally took a deep breath.

"Good news, my friend, the wire has been placed and we are ready to put the cap on the hole."

Clint would've kissed the doc if his body would allow him to do so. "Yippee," he mumbled with mock enthusiasm. "What's...after?"

"Afterward I will staple the scalp closed and we can get started on the left side."

\---

After a total surgery time of six hours and 23 minutes, Clint was wheeled back into his room so he could sleep off the anesthesia. He wanted to see Laura before he fell asleep, however, and as soon as his wheels were locked she was at his side. "Hi, baby," he slurred. He wouldn't be awake for very long.

"Hi," Laura whispered back against his lips. "How was it?"

Clint was far too drowsy to give more than a one or two word answer. "Weird. Nate?"

"He's taking a nap, the nurses brought in another bed for us." Clint inched his head to the side to see his son completely stretched out on a second hospital bed, his limbs splayed all over the place. All three of the kids took after Clint in that they usually slept like an octopus and took up the most space available, hence the reason they kept the little cot in Clint and Laura's room since not all of them could fit on the bed. Nate's chest rose and fell slowly, deep into his nap. "Do you want him?" Clint grunted in the affirmative, and Laura went to the other bed to scoop the baby into her arms, careful not to wake him, and set him on Clint's chest. 

Since Clint was still heavily medicated, his limbs were still as if the tremors did not exist. Laura helped him place his hand so Clint could pat the baby's back with his fingers or stroke with his thumb. Nate opened his eyes once and looked up at who held him, yawned a soft _datda_ and dozed off once again just as Clint closed his own eyes.  
\---

_Barton, you look like a giant penis._

Tony stood in the doorway of Clint's hospital room, his sharp suit in contrast with the bland and boring surroundings. Natasha checked the back of his shoulder and gently shoved him out of the way to go to Laura and hug her and the baby together. Clint looked up from the word search booklet he was working on and dramatically dropped his head back onto the pillow.

"Oh God, I'm in hell. Tony Stark is here and I'm in hell," he whined. Tony pulled up the guest chair and plopped himself into it so everyone else could filter into the room. Thor took up the most space and dwarfed Sam next to him, followed by Wanda and Steve. 

"Excuse me? I am a gift to this Earth," Tony noted with his usual amount of snark. "How you feeling, Birdboy?"

"A bit like Abe Lincoln but otherwise alright. I'm on a _lot_ of painkillers right now so you kind of look like a something out of a Picasso painting."

Natasha stood next to Clint and pulled the tape and gauze from his head to examine the staples. Satisfied with Dr. Dhankhar's work, she tugged at his gown. "Let's see the other part."

Clint sat up so he could pull the loose gown forward enough and expose his chest and untape the gauze. Two lumps were visible underneath his collar bones, still puffy and red from the second surgery only a few hours ago. For that surgery he was put to sleep entirely, and was just now starting to feel the morphine wear off. He was also starving.

The group collectively leaned in to stare at the implants. "You look like you have one of those beetles under your skin, like in _The Mummy's_ ," Sam joked to help everyone relax. He wasn't far off, actually; the implants were the size of beetles. Tony had to bring the conversation back to himself.

"Are they working yet? You aren't jiggling all over the place."

Clint shook his head. "They haven't been programmed yet. The doctor said since there's some swelling in my brain it'll reduce everything for a few days."

"Isn't swelling in the brain a bad thing though?" Steve had some medical knowledge since he was so sick as a kid but at times he was not sure if his information was outdated or not.

"It's not enough to cause any problems," Laura said from her spot on the other hospital bed with the baby. "And they won't be activated until next week."

"Well, since you and Lady Hawk and Baby Hawk will be here for the week I insist you stay with us at the tower." Tony gleamed whenever he had a chance to bring up the Avengers Tower. "I can have a crib sent up to your room. Or do you put him in a nest? Sticks, mud, spit, all that jazz."

Laura giggled and brushed some of the dark blond hair from her son's forehead. "A crib would be just fine."

"When are the kicking you out of here? I'll have a car sent over to bring you guys over."

Clint looked to Laura, who was the only one actually awake when the doctor was giving aftercare instructions. "Just a few more hours. They'll check the bandages and load him up on painkillers again, then we can leave. Tuesday is when we come back to program them."

Everyone nodded and settled in to various spots around the room. Thor shook Clint's hand and made some kind of motion about Clint's head. "Do not fret, my Midgardian brother, this is merely an Asgardian healing prayer my mother taught me so that you heal comfortably and without pain. The Midgardian equivalent is...'get well soon'? Is that the correct phrase?" 

"Yeah, that's right. Thanks, Big Guy."

Tony ordered lunch for everyone while they waited for Clint's designated discharge time, although Clint ate like it was his last meal. He was slower than everyone else due to the drugs in his system but he also had not eaten in nearly 24 hours and slowly put away all the minestrone he could get his hands on. Laura set the baby across her lap and maneuvered herself so she did not have to hold him while he nursed, freeing up her hands to eat as well. 

Doctor Dhankhar appeared half an hour before Clint was to be discharged, along with Clint's regular neurologist. They both checked the staples across Clint's head and the stitches in Clint's chest one last time before confirming his programming appointment for Tuesday and signed the bottom of Clint's chart to discharge him. A few minutes later, Steve helped him into a hospital wheelchair and pushed him down the hall with the rest of the group.  
\---

For the rest of the week, as the swelling in Clint's brain lessened his tremors gradually returned. Being somewhat in control of his own limbs felt amazing but since Clint was loaded on painkillers and sleep aids he really was not awake enough to enjoy it other than being able to play with Nathaniel on their bed at the Avengers Tower.

Tuesday could not come soon enough, and by the time the day arrived Tony was annoying the ever living shit out of Clint. Stark wanted to experiment on the implants in Clint's chest, hook him up to wires and batteries and all sorts of ridiculous things in his workshop. Clint was plenty grateful to Tony for letting him and his family stay among friends, and Tony knew what it was like to have a chunk of technology lodged in his chest, but his personality drove Clint up the wall sometimes. All Clint wanted to do was relax, nap with his baby, and snuggle with his wife. 

Tony's driver dropped them off at the neurologist's office a few minutes before his scheduled appointment time. The tremors were back to their normal levels of awful, Clint's patience was running thin, and Nate was being a bit of a brat all morning. The toys they brought for him were getting old, and Clint could only read the Dr. Seuss book so many times before he could read it on the back of his eyelids. 

In the waiting room, though, Nate's charm was in full force. He smiled at others waiting, waved when they waved at him, and sidled his way across the chairs to say hi in person. His legs were getting stronger, his steps more sure with practice. The other patients, most of whom were elderly, absolutely adored him and remarked how cute and sweet he was. Clint was so proud of his babies, they were the best things to ever happen to him and he didn't know enough words to express how much he loved them.

When a nurses assistant called them back, Laura gathered up the diaper and toy bag and grabbed Nate before the baby could crawl his way under a chair to play underneath it. Lilah was teaching him hide-and-seek so sometimes Nate squeezed himself into places that he probably should not be in. A few of the older patients waved at him, and Laura stopped for him to wave back and say 'bye-bye.' 

The neurologist did not have him wait long, since programming the implants would only take a few moments. It would take a few days of adjusting the intensity of the implants before Clint could tell the full effects, but the neurologist told him that some things would be immediate.

"Alright, Mr. Barton, if you'll just remove your shirt I'll show you how this works. These are your programmers, red for right, blue for left. All you do is hold the programmer against the implant like this." The neurologist set the programming remote against Clint's skin and pointed out buttons. "This large button turns the implant on and off, and these adjust the intensity. You can leave them on 24-hours per day, just know that doing so will wear out the implants quicker so they'll have to be replaced more frequently, about every two years. If you turn them off at night or while you are sleeping, you can stretch the implant life out to five years or so. Now I'm going to plug them into my console here and get them set up. Just a few moments."

Waiting those few moments was akin to torture. Clint was so ready to have his body back in control. He was ready to be able to feed himself without making a giant mess, write his name, work on the sunroom again, be with his wife, shoot his bow. Above all, he wanted to pick up his baby on his own. 

"Alright, you're all set. Go ahead and give the right one a try."

Clint set the remote against his chest and pressed the power-on button, waiting for the effect to take place. He couldn't feel anything specific happen, there wasn't a "switch" that he could feel anywhere in his body, but he noticed that he was able to move his right arm and right leg as he wanted. 

"Very good. I'm going to have you do a few quick things for me. Hold your arm straight out, good, now flip your palm over. Can you tap each one of your fingers with your thumb?"

It took him a moment to struggle through the task, but after about ten seconds Clint was able to do so fluidly. When the doc asked him to snap his fingers, and Clint did so immediately, Clint teared up.

"Beautiful. Let's get the left side programmed and you will be all set."

He set the remote against the left implant and activated it, waiting for the left half of his body to settle. Uncurling his left hand, the first time he did so on his own in nearly a year, made him finally cry. Clint happily blubbered through the rest of the programming session and into Laura's shoulder the moment the neurologist closed out his computer program.

The Doctor patted Clint's shoulder. "Congratulations, Mr. Barton."

Clint turned back to the doctor, his face a puffy red mess, and held his hand out to shake the doctor's. He'd never been so amazed at his own ability to do such a simple action. "Thank you, doc." He sounded more like a frog, and laughed at his own emotional state.

The Doctor waited for them to get the diaper and toy bags packed up, and Clint went to Nate sitting on the floor with a large plastic car. Nate looked upwards with his big blue eyes and stretched his arms up to his daddy. "Datda?"

Clint wept at his own ability to bend down and pick up his son.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (This isn't the last chapter, just FYI. There's an epilogue)


	12. Epilogue

377 Days AU  
\---

Laura settled against Clint's chest, pulling the thin sheet up to her shoulders. The sheen of sweat that covered her made her cold now that Clint was not on top of her. Clint was always naturally warm and when he wasn't stretched out and hogging the entire bed he was actually a very good cuddle, but as soon as the sun came up the heat would practically suffocate her. It was best to enjoy her body against his for as long as possible while the air was still somewhat chilly.

Technically it was Nathaniel's first birthday, although it was just past midnight and they were only now getting to bed. With three kids in the house, sex usually had to wait until Clint and Laura knew the kids were definitely asleep to do anything that would be considered noisy and since Lilah spooked so easily they still had to be relatively quiet. They had not really been able to have sex with Clint on top since his diagnosis (and hardly had sex at all, actually) but since the surgery they were worse than two high schoolers on prom night. Laura liked curling up against him afterward and listening to his heart beat. 

She kissed the lump that was formed by the right implant in his chest, pulling the sheet up to his waist. Clint breathed heavily from the exertion since he was still regaining some of the muscle that atrophied in the past year and would get winded easily at times but he was working with a physical therapist to regain a lot of his strength. His hair was short and fuzzy, and the scar left by the staples in his head were still extremely obvious (Clint swore to Cooper that if he would be Frankenstein for Halloween this year). The incisions on his chest were small enough that they healed with barely any indication but the ones on his head would take some time before they either became unnoticeable or his hair grew long enough to cover them. Based on some of the brain injuries and surgeries Clint saw at SHIELD there was a possibility a gap in his hairline would always be there, but Clint figured that he didn't have to look at the top of his head at all times of the day so there was no reason to worry about it.

"Do you think Nate knows it's his birthday?" Laura tucked herself further into Clint and ran her hand across his abdomen.

"Probably not," Clint grinned. "He'll figure it out as soon as you give him the little cake."

Laura laughed against his chest. "He's going to make a giant mess with that. Ten bucks says he gets icing in his hair somehow."

"I'm betting ears."

"Deal." Laura reached across his stomach and grabbed his hand, the one that until only a few weeks ago was constantly curled into itself. Sometimes she found herself massaging his palm absentmindedly or stretching out his fingers. Clint didn't seem to mind, and he used the action as an excuse to pull her hand to his lips and kiss her knuckles. "Don't you start that," Laura whined as she tugged her hand back. "We just finished, we both have to be up early tomorrow and I'm worn out."

Clint threw his head back in mock exasperation then rolled over so he was above her, holding his weight off her by his elbows. She ran her hands up both sides of his chest to the implants under his collar bones and thumbed the tight skin. Clint looked into her eyes and brushed away some of the hair plastered to her forehead. "I love you, Mrs. Barton," he whispered after some time.

"I love you too, Mr. Barton. And don't think being cute is going to help your case at all, you're getting up when I do." They both quietly chuckled at themselves until Clint leaned forward to kiss her deeply.

"Fine, you win. I was going to finish sanding the workroom floor anyway, I think tomorrow I can put the finish on it. Tomorrow after the party, I mean," Clint mused as he rolled back to his side of the bed. What was supposed to be his "last project" took almost an entire year and Clint was ready to finally be done with it. So far he did not have a "next last project" but there was some space out in the barn he was considering changing into something of a guest house for when Barney came over and wanted some space. Either that or set it up so that Wanda had a little mini-house to call her own, Clint hadn't decided yet.

They lay back down, Laura curled on her side and Clint spooning against her. Laura fell asleep fairly quickly, but Clint lay awake marveling at how much he loved the woman next to him.  
\----

Nate's party was nowhere near as large as Cooper or Lilah's, but with some of the Avengers (namely Thor) and Laura's parents, her sister, and Barney all crammed into the house the space was somewhat cramped. To keep Nate from being trampled he spent much of the day being passed around like a squeaking football until it was time to put him in the high chair for his smash cake (a small version of the regular cake that Nate could destroy with his hands). Nate had cake before, at Lilah's birthday party a few months ago, but he only had a few bites that someone offered to him and was unsure what to do with the little green cake in front of him.

Eventually Clint cut out a small piece to feed him until he got the idea of what to do with it. Lately Nate demanded that he have a spoon or a fork with him while he ate even though he didn't actually use it, and for the first time in six months Clint was able to help one of his children eat. He worried for so long that he would never be able to teach Nate how to use a fork or a spoon, but thanks to the implants he was steady enough to help Nate scoop out a chunk of the cake and bring it to his mouth. The little boy then abandoned the spoon entirely to shove his hands into the green icing to revert back to licking his fingers.

Thor found this practice hilarious and his laugh boomed throughout the house as Nate smeared the icing across his face. Since Nate was otherwise occupied various adults brought his gifts to Laura for her approval. "Lady Barton, I have a gift for the youngest Bartonson after he has feasted; I was told gift-giving is still customary for a birthday celebration." Thor handed Laura a small bundle about the size of a dollar bill wrapped in cloth. "It is made from the same ash tree as that of Yggdrasil and is meant for young ones to chew as they age; my father made a similar one for me when I was a babe so I ask that you accept this from my family to yours." Laura was flustered by the formality, especially after she unwrapped the cloth to reveal a small wooden horse. "The wood is sealed so that it cannot break, it is safe." 

Nate had more chew toys than he had teeth but another one wouldn't hurt. "Thank you, Thor, I'm sure he will put this to good use since he chews on everything now."

Clint, who was busy taking pictures of Nathaniel's messy face, turned around long enough to look at the small wooden horse. "Originally Thor asked if he could give Nate a sword."

Laura immediately shook her head. "Nope, that wouldn't have happened. A horse is fine."

"It would have been made of the same wood! I received my first play-sword on my first birthday, how else is he supposed to learn to use it properly?"

"At least wait until he's three," Clint smirked as he snapped another picture. Only a few weeks ago, he would barely even be able to hold the phone let alone take pictures with it. "Is that good, buddy?" Nate was busy slurping icing from in-between his fingers to acknowledge his dad. Tony stepped around the highchair and avoided it as though it would give him a disease. He then handed an envelope to Laura.

"What's this?"

Tony made a gesture as if he was waving her off. "College."

"College?" Laura nearly dropped the little horse Thor gave her as she tugged open the flap of the envelope. Inside was simply a few sheets of paper with bank statements on them.

"Yeah, for each of the Hawk Babies. Wherever they want to go; by the time they're old enough the interest should be enough to cover all four years." Tony continued fixing a soda as if giving people full rides through college was something he did every day. Actually, he probably _did_ do that every day if what he said about the Stark Foundation was true. Laura had to plop herself into a seat at the kitchen table before she fell over. They'd been saving up for the kids to go to college, and with what they managed to save they could probably send Cooper to a decent school but by the time they got to Nate it would definitely be a struggle. "Take the kids to Disney World or something. Europe. Wherever they wanna go."

Clint looked over Laura's shoulder and actually did fall, catching himself on the table. "Tony, this...this is too much-"

"Nope, shut up. I'm not listening to that. And if you don't relax you're going to warp your brain, I don't want to be responsible for you getting twitchy again."

Both Laura and Clint were rendered speechless until she stood quickly and snagged Tony in a hug. For a moment the surprise in Tony's face made him look like he needed to reboot his brain. "Thank you."

"Hey now, too much of this and Pepper might get jealous." Despite the comment, Tony appeared to enjoy the hug nonetheless.

Gifts from others were a little more age appropriate; Steve brought him a plastic Whiffle bat and ball, Barney gave him a little music activity center that as soon as the batteries died they would never get replaced again (Wanda could tell Barney got it specifically to drive Clint up a wall), Natasha gave him a few board books that he could look through without tearing apart, and Laura's parents gave him a few outfits for the coming months. Wanda knitted him a hat, although it was currently too hot to wear so it would have to go into winter storage for now. Ever since the one year anniversary of the battle against Ultron, Wanda stayed with them on the Barton farm. This particular day would always be engrained in her mind as the death of her brother, and for the past two weeks she was extra cuddly with Nathaniel. Nate didn't seem to mind since he liked the attention, and when Wanda wasn't cuddling him then Clint was carrying him. 

Once Nate finished what he could eat of his smash cake and played with a few of his new toys, Laura went to the pantry and pulled out a small gift bag. She then handed it to Clint. "Here, you can help him open this one."

Clint sat on the floor next to Nate and set the bag in front of him. "Here you go, Nutter Butter, try opening this one." Nate was not entirely sure what to do with wrapping paper or tissue paper so with most gifts someone had to do about 3/4 of the work before Nate tugged at the last few pieces. This time, however, he reached into the bag and yanked the tissue paper out to toss as high into the air as his chubby arms would allow. He then pulled into the bag and did the same with whatever object was in it, squealing in happiness as it landed on the back of the couch. "Bud, you didn't even look at it!" Clint heaved himself up once again to grab it from the couch and hold it up to look at it. It was a simple blue shirt in Nate's size with large red words on the front, and when Clint read them he looked up to Laura with absolute shock. "Are you serious."

Laura smiled at him and nodded, bending down to rub his fuzzy hair and kiss the scars on the top of his head. "Yes, I'm serious." The rest of the group asked that he turn the little shirt around so they could read it as well.

"Come on, Legolas, what's it say?"

Clint flipped the shirt around and held it up for everyone else to read what was on the front. 

_Big Brother._


End file.
